


lay me down in the river (wash this place away)

by siriuspiggyback



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: (only a little), BAMF Leia Organa, Blood and Violence, Dehumanization, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Resistance Member Dave, Slow Burn, Stormpilot AU, Stormtrooper Klaus, only the vaguest understanding of star wars is necessary to understand this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 37,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuspiggyback/pseuds/siriuspiggyback
Summary: “So,” said Dave, folding his arms. “Your name?”The man opposite licked his lips, eyes cutting between his hands and Dave’s face. Eventually, just as he was beginning to think that the ‘trooper wouldn’t crack, he said, “Designation KL-0040.”
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Dave & Klaus Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Comments: 1029
Kudos: 838
Collections: Numerous OTPS Infinite Fandoms





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I started thinking about the parallels between The Academy and Stormtroopers, completely blacked out, and then suddenly i had 2k words idk my dudes

Dave steeled himself.

This was the thing about war: no side was clean from the blood in their hands. Even good causes did dirty things, things that kept Dave awake at night, things that he would never tell his Ma about. Not that he could if he wanted to, it was all top secret, and transmissions are easily intercepted between planets. 

This had to be done. It didn’t mean he liked it, but it had to be done.

He keyed in the passcode, and entered the room.

It was white. The walls, the floors, even the nailed down table in the centre. As it was, the stormtrooper almost blended in, except for the sharp black lines at the bend of his joints, over the eyes, blank and expressionless. The only sign of life was the way the face twitched towards the opening of the doorway. 

Dave sat opposite, keeping his shoulders relaxed, posture confident but not aggressive. It was a hard line to play. “Hi,” he said evenly. “I’m Commander Katz. Can you tell me your name?”

The ‘trooper didn’t respond except for the slightest tilt of his head. Dave couldn’t read it. 

“Going for the silent approach, huh? Don’t worry, we can wait,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “And if not, we always have other ways to convince you to talk.”

He thought he saw a slight twitch at that, the ‘troopers shoulders coming up an inch. It was hard to tell, with the armour obscuring them. Dave had always been good at reading people - one of the reasons he was chosen for this job - but he wasn’t familiar enough with stormtroopers to know what those subtle reactions meant.

“This is really going to go much smoother if we can have a nice chat,” said Dave, trying to keep any desperation from bleeding into his voice. He couldn’t show weakness, not if he wanted to control the situation. “In fact, mind taking your helmet off? Talking face to face?”

A pause. “I- my hands are…”

Oh. Of course. “I can remove it for you,” Dave offered quickly. 

The stormtroopers hands flexed where they were locked together against the surface of the table - a necessary precaution. “Okay,” he said finally. His voice was flat and robotic through the mask.

Dave stood, movements slow and obvious, rounding the table before he touched the edges of the helmet, letting his fingers hinge under the edges. The stormtrooper held perfectly still. Careful to be gentle, not wishing to harm the ‘trooper any more than necessary, Dave eased the stormtrooper helmet off. 

The man underneath blinked up at him.

Retreating back to his side of the table, Dave struggled not to show how shaken he felt by it. Of course, intellectually Dave had been aware that stormtroopers were real people underneath the plastic shell, but it had been hard to believe, watching them move in rigid formation and kill without hesitation.

Except for this one.

The memory of earlier that day flashed behind Dave’s eyelids.

_Hot, swampy air. The sun glaring off of the stark white armor. Running, ducking, running again. They had been waiting for them, ready to ambush the moment they set down on the planet. The whole thing was probably a set up; the General herself had said that they couldn’t trust that these potential allies were genuine._

_Jungle whipping past as he raced back to his ship._

_A short shout from behind. His copilot, or a stormtrooper? He couldn’t stop to check, not with the sound of blasters still loud in his ears._

_He ran. He ran. He ran._

_A body collided with his._

He shook the memory off, instead focusing on the present, and the man sat in front of him. His face was pale and slender, eyes wide and green and scared. Scared. Dave glanced away, unable to stop the sick sense of guilt pooling in his gut. 

“So,” said Dave, folding his arms. “Your name?”

The man opposite licked his lips, eyes cutting between his hands and Dave’s face. The expression wasn’t quite shy, but it was something like it. Eventually, just as he was beginning to think that the ‘trooper wouldn’t crack, he said, “Designation KL-0040… sir.”

Wrongfooted, Dave said, “You don’t have to call me sir.” 

“Yes, s- uh.” The man blinked at him, mouth framing words that he didn’t voice.

“Okay, so,” he said, swallowing a laugh, “Sorry, let’s go back a second. What did you say your name is?”

“KL-0040,” repeated the man.

Dave shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t- Is that your rank? Serial number?”

“It’s...” The stormtrooper peaked up from under his lashes, brows drawn together in uncertainty. “Me. I’m KL-0040.”

Realisation hit like a punch to his gut, leaving Dave realing, lips parted as he sucked in a shocked breath. Words tumbled out before he could stop them. “That’s your _name?_ They gave you a number?”

“Yes?” the man _\- KL-0040 -_ said quizzically.

“But- what about before?”

“Before what?”

Dave leaned in, and said, “Before you joined the First Order.”

The stormtrooper was peering openly at Dave by now, eyes wide and guileless. “I was always with the First Order. There was no _before.”_

 _“Wha-_ but, but, you can’t have always been a stormtrooper?”

“No, of course not,” he replied, and Dave had a split second to breathe before he clarified, “They class you as a cadet up until age 12.”

Dave pulled back, taking a ragged breath. “But- where did you come from?”

The ‘trooper tilted his head, and said with open curiosity, “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Dave blurted. “You’re a person!”

The man gave him a strange look - almost pitying - before saying, “I’m not a person. I’m a stormtrooper.”

Dave felt ill. The way he said it - with absolute certainty - left a bitter taste at the back of his throat. Most of all, he felt sick because he had believed it, too. Up until the moment that he had seen this man, looked him in the eye, he hadn’t really thought of them as _people._ At best, soldiers, but at worst, they were a scourge to be wiped out.

He stood, knees feeling unsubstantial. “I- Do you need anything? Water? Food?”

The man’s face dropped at that, before he averted his gaze back to his gloved hands. Dave wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he wasn’t willing to stick around and ease an answer out, not when his stomach was threatening mutiny, bile rising in his throat. “Okay,” he croaked, before spilling out of the room. 

Outside of the interrogation room, Leia was waiting for him.

“General,” Dave said automatically.

Leia nodded at him, eyes steady on his pale face. She, as always, seemed to know what he was thinking, although whether that was due to the force, or just _her,_ was up for debate.

“Did you know?” he said.

“Come with me,” she said, before striding away, leading him down familiar winding corridors and out to headquarters, and then through to her private office. “Sit,” she said.

Dave collapsed down, legs folding underneath him. The space was familiar; he had been with the resistance for a long time, and Leia had been close friends with his aunt, when she had still been alive. Leia had made a habit of inviting him in for Caf, when she had the time.

“Did you know?” he said, voice hollow edged.

“About what?” 

He looked at her, then, and saw the sad pinch of her mouth. “You knew.”

She sighed heavily. “I suspected, yes,” she said, weary. “There were reports. Children going missing. Whole villages of them, sometimes. It was all hushed up, of course, nothing was made public.”

Dave ducked his head, her words feeling like a physical blow. He had trusted her implicitly. They all had. “Why did you let me talk to him? If it was a secret?”

Leia looked away, then. “If you had already known what they were doing to them… would he be able to trust you?”

“Oh,” he said. Sometimes, he forgot that this was war. That Leia was The General, and that she made hard decisions, maybe even wrong decisions, to get the outcome she wanted. It was easy to look at her and see a princess, a mother. Maybe that was on purpose; she was easily underestimated, that way. It was times like this, when Dave looked at her, the grey strands of hair matching the steel in her eyes, that he remembered that this woman had watched her entire homeplanet die in front of her, and still hadn’t broken.

“You understand,” she said then, voice urgent, imploring, “that no one can know. Our people are _good people._ They’re empathetic, and maybe too kind for their own good. If they knew who they were fighting, who they had to fight-”

“It’s not so easy, is it, when you remember that they’re all people too,” Dave said bitterly.

“No,” said Leia, and he wondered if she had ever forgotten. “No, it’s not.”

“And if everyone knew… knew that the stormtroopers hadn’t had a choice…”

“It would be harder still, yes,” she said.

Dave nodded. His jaw was aching with how tightly he held himself. “I should get back,” he said. “He’ll be wondering where I am.”

Leia reached out then, brushing his hand with her fingertips. “I am sorry. I wish I didn’t have to burden you with this.”

“Are we-” He swallowed tightly, blinking rapidly. “Are we still the good guys?” It was a childish notion, but one he had been clinging to all the same.

Leia dropped her hand. “There are no good sides to a war. There’s a side willing to slaughter to gain power, and a side willing to slaughter to stop them.”

“Then why. Why are we fighting?” 

“Because,” she said, “we aren’t the side stealing children to raise for war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this is something people are interested in, i do have a vague plot planned out and clearly too much time on my hands, so let me know in the comments
> 
> as always, you can find me on tumblr under the same username


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone commented on the first chapter, i got super motivated reading them, so here's the second chapter!

KL-0040 stared dead ahead.

This, he thought, was worse than any kind of torture that the Resistance could have attempted. A sick combination of boredom and dread. If it wasn't for all the training he had received, he would be vibrating out of his skin by now. As it was, he was familiar with being still and silent, despite his entire being itching to move. So.

He stared straight ahead.

He had, at some point, considered that maybe he would be left in this cold, sterile room to rot. Maybe they had realised how worthless his information was, how little use he was. Why even waste the time to put him down? Maybe they would only retrieve his body when they had captured someone new to torture.

He didn't think that that idea had much merit. After all, he had barely spoken, and Dave hadn't even attempted to hurt him yet. He knew that they would try to break him that way before they decided to let him die. 

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what reason he had to keep secrets; his knowledge of the First Order was superficial at best. Even being in one of the more elite squadrons, he was still a stormtrooper, just a body with a blaster in hand, a weapon to point in whatever direction they chose. Command wasn’t about to tell KL-0040 their top secret plans. He wasn’t sure which tactic was best. Should he tell them everything he knew, meager and thin as it was? They would most likely keep him alive longer if he pretended to be holding back on them, but was it worth it for a few more days of pain before they inevitably decided that he had outlived his usefulness? 

When the hiss of the door opening announced his arrival, KL-0040 wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure he ever would be, though, not for this. So he kept his gaze ahead, slightly lowered like his superiors always liked, and didn’t move.

“Hey,” Dave said lowly. “I brought some water.”

KL-0040 barely suppressed a flinch. Whether this was code for waterboarding or not, he had yet to determine, but he would rather not find out. So when Dave plonked a bottle of water down in front of him, he allowed himself to breathe out in thinly veiled relief. This, he thought, was something that he could deal with.

Dave sat opposite, motion heavy and slow. He had his own water in hand - a taunt, KL-0040 was sure. “So, what should I call you?”

Keeping his eyes on the water, trying to ignore the dryness of his mouth, barely stopping himself from using the banned _sir,_ he admitted, “I don’t understand.”

“What do you want me to call you? Did you have a- a nickname, or something? What did your friends call you?”

The concept of _friends_ was a distant, forbidden thing. There was only Command, and his squad members, who he was not allowed to call his siblings, but were something close to it. Swallowing thickly, he confessed, “My squadmates called me Four.”

“Four,” Dave said, considering. “Alright, I guess that’ll do.” He took a swig of water, all casual, and KL-0040 followed the movement with envious eyes. 

"So, Four," he said, "was our meeting a coincidence, or an ambush?"

Four opened his mouth, only to shut it just as fast. The question was an easy one, and one of the few things he knew the answer to. 

He had never, in the deepest, safest recesses of his mind, considered himself a loyalist. He had none of LU-1001's belief, nor DG-0022's competitiveness. He was there because he had no choice, and because it was all he knew, as well as maybe, privately, because his squamates were his family. It had got him sent to reconditioning countless times, more than anyone else on his squad, and other 'troopers had often remarked on how strange it was, for someone with his record to be selected for one of the most elite squads in the Order. He was sure that if Sixes was still alive, he would have expected Four to have spilled his guts by now.

And yet.

The words felt poisonous on his tongue. His throat swelled at the thought of betraying The First Order, and he could feel himself breaking into a cold sweat, palms damp in his gloves. He felt trapped in his armour, claustrophobic. "I-" he choked out. 

Dave looked at him. Said, "Are you okay? Why don’t you have some water?"

Four grit his teeth at the taunt. It was a game he had played before, one he had learned to play well. He had gotten good at denying his own needs. It was something he had earned through blood and tears and pain, in lessons on withstanding torture, withstanding harsh conditions, withstanding whatever he had to for the First Order. He wondered what Dave would do, if he attempted to reach for it, hindered by the way his wrists were clamped to the table. Maybe he would hit him, laugh at him. Maybe the liquid in the bottle was punishment enough - something slyly dangerous, sitting their so temptingly. (Maybe, if he was fast enough, fingers precise, he would be able to take a precious sip before Dave could enact his punishment. Maybe, if he gave them the right information, said the right things, he would be allowed to drink something for real. He was _so thirsty-)_

With his eyes on the water, he grit out, “Ambush.”

“Sorry?” said Dave.

“It was an ambush. We were waiting for you, were supposed to capture you alive,” Four blurted, the words like ash in his mouth.

Dave nodded, swiping his palm over his mouth. “Why?”

Four shrugged helplessly. “For information, I suppose? Or for bait, maybe, a trap?”

“Is that something you heard, or just speculation?”

“Speculation,” Four whispered, trying not to shrink in his seat. 

“Alright. Okay, so how did you know that we would be there? Was the whole meeting a trap from the start, or did the First Order just hear about it secondhand?” Dave asked.

Four knew what he was really asking here: did they have a mole? “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Dave deflated. “No, that’s okay,” he said tiredly. “I need to go tell-... I’ll be back in a minute.”

Alone again, Four stared at the water with intense eyes. A trick, maybe? A test? See if he will take the water when he thinks nobody is watching, see if he acts without permission? He can’t risk it, won’t risk it.

Maybe, if he only drank a _little bit-_

But no. He wasn’t a complete idiot, he knew that there were cameras on him. Someone was probably watching him at that very moment. It didn’t bother him too much, considering he had grown and lived under the watchful gaze of surveillance, privacy only an insubstantial idea that he might have when the lights went out.

When was the last time he had drank? Before the mission, obviously, and the flight back to the rebel base - and who knows how long that was, considering he was unconscious for most of it - and being dragged to the interrogation room, handcuffed, left to wait for his own torture. Hours and hours, sweating out his precious water into the confines of his armour. His head had started throbbing a while ago, and he was starting to feel dizzy and slow with it, his tongue like sandpaper in his mouth. 

It wasn’t _fair._ He had given them the information Dave asked for. Hadn’t he earned it? What else did they want, before they allowed him to drink something?

The water bottle was cold enough that condensation had begun to bead along the plastic. With one shaking, gloved hand, he ran a finger down the side of it, watching in rapture as it drew clean line.

The door opened. Four snapped upright, hands withdrawing into fists. 

“Sorry about that,” Dave said smoothly, without a hint of irony. “Where were we?”

Four figured that it was rhetorical, since Dave was the one with the power to decide what sort of conversation they had.

Dave cleared his throat. “I’ve got a few more questions, but before we start, do you need anything?”

“No, sir,” Four bit out.

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Dave reminded him. “You haven’t drank anything.”

“No.”

Dave cocked his head, eyes watchful. Four had to resist the urge to shrink back. “But- aren’t you thirsty?”

Four swallowed dryly. “Yes.”

A beat. “Then why?”

“Why what?”

“If you’re thirsty, why haven’t you touched the water?” Dave asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.

Four dared to look at him, thrown at the question. “I- You didn’t give me permission, sir. Dave, I mean.”

Dave was silent for an agonisingly long time after that, eyes studying Four with an expression like he was in pain. “You don’t need permission to drink your water, Four,” he said eventually.

“What?” said Four blankly. Food and water had always been controlled substances, something that was given in careful measures for optimal performance. Something that could be withheld if their performance didn’t meet standards. It wasn’t something that he could just _take._ Was it?

“I gave it to you,” said Dave. “You don’t need my permission.”

“I’m- I’m allowed to drink it?” Four asked, a touch suspicious. Was this another trap?

Dave heaved a long breath. “Yes.”

Four studied his face for a trace of deception, and when he found none, he pulled to bottle of water closer. Twisting the lid off was awkward, with his wrists still held together, but he managed it after a second of fumbling. He couldn’t lift it too high, had to duck down to meet it, but it was manageable.

With one more look at Dave, who gave him an encouraging smile, Four took a cautious sip. A glorious sip.

And then he drained the bottle dry.


	3. III

Dave felt like a total idiot. 

How he had not noticed KL-0040’s increasing desperation, he didn’t know. He felt guilty as hell for it now though. The poor guy had been sitting there, too scared to even take the water in front of him, whilst Dave grilled him for information. 

The guy was shaking enough for it to be obvious through the armour. What other needs was he neglecting? He hadn’t given him food, or even a bathroom break. Hadn’t checked him for wounds, or allowed him to clean up, or even to take that damn armour off. 

“Alright,” Dave said, passing a hand through his hair. “I need to get some things sorted, and then I’ll be back with food and stuff. Do you need anything?”

Four just looked at him blankly, as if he wasn’t speaking basic. 

“Okay,” Dave said unevenly.

Dave knew the base well, and knew enough to find a room for Four - one near Dave’s own, where he could keep an eye on him - and some spare supplies for the guy. He knew he should probably do things a more official route, get permission to change Four’s status from prisoner to civilian, get permission to move him. The problem with that was it all took _time._ Dave wasn’t willing to wait around and let Four languish in the interrogation chamber, especially when the ‘trooper had been cooperative and unthreatening the whole time. He knew some people would have a problem with that, but he trusted his own intuition, and he knew that Four wasn’t a threat. The guy was too scared to ask for _water._

Besides, he thought jadedly, Leia wanted him to gain Four’s trust. He couldn’t do that if he treated him like a criminal.

Once he had the room ready, the bed made and towels in the ‘fresher, some basic clothes in the drawer, he decided it was time to go get Four. Before that, though, he installed a sensor at the doorway, set up to alert him if anyone opened the door. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but he wasn’t naive enough to let a stormtrooper wander the rebellion base without supervision.

Dave felt twitchy on his way back, like he was breaking the rules, which, he supposed, he technically was. Not that anyone was likely to question him; it was getting late, and everyone else was thinking of sleep, not the holding cells. 

He entered the room and disengaged the lock that kept the handcuffs pinned to the table. “Ready?” he said, turning to face Four.

The other man looked at him, grey faced, eyes wide. “Yes.” 

“Come on then,” said Dave, ushering him out of the room.

Four looked around hallway, looking disoriented. When he had been dragged in, he was still half unconscious, barely able to get his feet underneath him. The base wasn’t the easiest place to learn. The corridors were generally utilitarian and plain, and the layout was a result of continual growth as volunteers accumulated, so it was fairly tricky to navigate. Four seemed determined to see as much of the place as possible, though, which Dave figured was understandable. The ‘trooper must be feeling pretty out of his depth here. Dave kept a guiding hand on his elbow, not hurrying him when Four dragged his heels. Only a couple of people passed them - on night shifts, probably, or on their way to bed. Dave nodded at them in greeting. Four’s handcuffed state earned some raised eyebrows, but no one bothered to question him about it.

“This is it,” said Dave. He felt Four stiffen at his side nervously, as if ready to bolt. He kept a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and opened the door.

Four stepped in on legs that looked ready to give out on him. 

“I know it’s pretty small, but you’ve got your own ‘fresher through there, and some clean towels and stuff. Uh. I’m just down the hall, too, if you need me,” Dave rambled. “Fair warning, I do get notified if you leave, just for security purposes. I can go get us some food now, if you’d like? And you can take a shower or whatever, clean up-”

“I don’t understand,” blurted Four.

“Well, I just figured- wait, sorry, what don’t you understand?”

“I just- I don’t understand,” Four repeated. He had a peculiar expression on his face, something fragile and scared.

“Where did I lose you?” Dave asked cautiously. He didn’t want a repeat of the water incident. He was determined not to keep making the same mistakes and continue to unwittingly hurt Four.

“This is a- bedroom?”

“Uh. Yes?” 

Four squinted at Dave, heavy brown drawn low. “Why?”

“Because… you need somewhere to… sleep?” Dave said slowly.

“I- what?” said Four.

Dave took a moment to run his palms over his face. He felt like he was talking a different language or something. Had communication always been this hard? He took a deep breath, and reminded himself to be patient, reaching out to where Four’s wrists were still cuffed together. With careful hands, Dave undid the cuffs. “Okay, let’s go back a step. What about this is confusing you?”

Four looked down at his freed wrists, flexing his hands slowly. “I thought you were taking me- I don’t know, for some fun new kind of torture, or maybe just for decommissioning, and then you bring me _here,_ and say I can have _food,_ and a _shower,_ and _clean fucking towels,_ and I just don’t understand what’s going on here, okay, I don’t-”

“Four,” said Dave, eyes wide. “Breathe. Take a slow breath, yeah?”

Four nodded fast, dragging a shaking breath in through gritted teeth. He was trembling slightly, Dave realised, as if on the edge of a panic attack. “Sorry,” said Four. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said all that.”

“It’s fine,” Dave said. “I- shit, I should have made it clearer, shouldn’t I? I’m sorry, I should have explained this better.”

Four said, “No, it’s okay, you don’t have to-”

“No, you deserve to know what’s going on,” Dave insisted. “Listen, we’re not going to- to _torture you_. You’ve co-operated with questioning, you haven’t been violent or threatening, you…” Dave didn’t say, _You could have killed me. You had the opportunity. Why didn’t you?_ He wasn’t sure he was ready to get into that. Not yet. 

“But I’m,” said Four, swallowing tightly. “I’m bad. Aren’t I?”

Dave looked away at that, feeling ill at the question. “You didn’t have a choice. Now you do. I think we owe you that, the chance to make your own decisions, see what kind of person you are.”

Four blinked rapidly, eyes wet and shining. “What if I don’t deserve it?”

“Everyone deserves a chance,” Dave countered. 

He smiled at that, although it was a thin, wobbly thing. “So… what now?”

“Now,” said Dave, “You take a shower, and I’ll grab us dinner. Sound like a good plan?”

Nodding cautiously, Four said, “I’d like that.”

Dave gave a relieved smile. “Alright. Is there anything else you need? Do you need help taking off the armour, or- oh, jeez-”

Four giggled gleefully at that, eyes lighting up. “Did you just offer to _help me take off my clothes?”_

 _“_ No!” yelped Dave, face burning red. He looked up at the ceiling, and then down at his feet. “I just meant- I didn’t mean it like _that,_ I just meant, it looks difficult to get out of, and I wasn’t sure if you-”

“Oh, been thinking about getting me out of my armour?” Four blurted, before slapping a hand over his mouth, looking shocked at his own boldness. “I mean, not that you- sorry, sir, I don’t know why I said that.”

Dave laughed, ears still tinged. “No, I totally deserved that one,” he admitted. “I’m an idiot. I’ll leave you to- I’ll just- go.”

Four laughed again, rocking on his heels. He hesitated for a moment, before saying, “So you _don’t_ want to stay and help?”

“I’m- _oh stars._ Food! I’m getting food!” Dave said, escaping out the door before Four could reply.

As the door swished shut behind him, his comlink went off, alerting him that Four’s door had been opened. Reality hit him like a bucket of cold water. As much as Four could be sweet, funny - _charming,_ even - it didn’t change the fact that he was traumatised, brainwashed, a tool of the First Order. A prisoner of war. Despite the pleasantries, the showers and clean towels and bedrooms with clothes in the drawers, Four still wasn’t free. Dave couldn’t allow himself to forget that. Couldn’t let himself think of them as friends, not when Four was so vulnerable, scared to ask for things and desperate to please Dave. He still slipped and called him _sir_ when he got nervous, still couldn’t act without explicit permission. 

Dave was responsible for him. As much as he liked Four, he couldn’t treat him like some rebellion recruit, like someone who could enforce boundaries, like someone who could tell him no. 

Besides, above all else, his task was to gain information. He couldn’t allow himself to be his friend. Dave would be kind, friendly, even, show Four that the First Order isn’t the only way to live, and help him if he could. But his duty to the rebellion had to come first. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are the only thing that matter to me anymore, i have become entirely reliant on the fleeting validation of people on the internet, pls help


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: I'm going to get all of the stormtroopers numbers right this time, keep it consistent  
> me: just straight up calls Four 'Klaus' instead
> 
> posting this a little earlier for @writer_inthe_dark , hope you have a speedy recovery, and enjoy the new chapter in the meantime!

Dave had been right about one thing; the stormtrooper armour _was_ a pain to get out of. Still, it was a familiar thing, almost a comfort, a way to decompress at the end of the day, a signal that he could take a moment to breathe, that the day was over. It was a relief to get out of it. The armour always made Four feel trapped, stifled, clunky and anonymous and insignificant. Shedding it always felt like a small piece of freedom. 

He placed the plates of armour on the floor in a neat line, and looked at it for a moment. His commander would have killed him for the disrespect of it, and for a moment he could feel those cold, dead eyes on the back of his neck like a physical presence. There was nowhere else for it, though - it was too big and awkward to fit in the drawers, and it couldn’t hang neatly either. He hadn’t been given anything to polish it with, and although Four had always despised the task, it made him anxious to leave it with dirt and smudges on what should be shiny and pure white. 

Four shrugged. The rebellion didn’t seem interested in uniform or regulation, and he wasn’t going against any explicit orders. It would have to do. 

He wriggled out of his plain black underclothes. Now that he was out of his armour, he was suddenly aware of how disgusting he felt. He had been running and fighting on some humid swamp of a planet, and then panicking for hours on end, sweating into his armour. He wrinkled his nose and dropped the underclothes on the bathroom floor. He wasn’t sure where laundry went, or whether it was even worth attempting to salvage those clothes. 

Stepping into the shower, Four squinted at the set up. Showering had always been a hurried, public thing - their squad all lined up to make use of the water, scrubbing away the aches of the day, before the timer cut the water and left them with soap suds drying on their skin. This one seemed to be controlled manually. Four wondered how you knew when shower time was, or when it was over, if you could turn the water on yourself. Maybe there was a water limit per shower? He frowned, and decided he should clean as fast as he could.

There were a couple of different bottles along the side. Four peered at the curiously. Back home, there was just bars of simple soap. Here, it seemed there were different ones for your body and your hair, and even something to make your hair softer. He sniffed each of them, before shrugging, and deciding that if they were here, he was probably allowed to use them.

With soap ready in hand, he pushed the button for what he hoped was the water. And-

Oh.

_Oh._

It was warm. Warm like his squadmates hands after he got knocked down, and Sixes quick, secret hugs after Four woke up from another nightmare. Warm like when the sun came in the windows just right during lunch, when they were allowed to remove their helmets, and the light touched his face and filtered through his eyelids when he closed them. 

_Warm._

Four allowed himself one second to smile in amazement. Then, he got to his task, scrubbing himself down, cleaning the sweat from his hair. He did use the hair softener, despite it being frivolous and unnecessary and probably left there accidentally. He hoped that Dave wouldn’t notice the pleasant smell of it. 

By the time he had washed all of the soaps away, the water was still running, just as warm as when he had first switched it on. Four let it run over him. He knew that he was being selfish, but it was so difficult to deny himself the pleasure of it. There didn’t seem to be any cameras in this room, so maybe no one would even know if he used more water than necessary. Still, it was a risk that he didn’t have to take. He knew that DG-0022 would probably be yelling at him to stop being an idiot if he were here, always worried for his squadmates but never knowing how to show it.

The warmth of the shower seemed somehow like a betrayal, knowing that his squadmates were still shivering through cold showers somewhere across the stars from him. With a sigh, he shut it off.

The towels left out were softer than what he was used to, fluffy and big enough to wrap around himself, which he did as he went out in search of some clean clothes.

The drawers revealed clothing that was plain and simple and yet so different from the stuff that Four was familiar with. Even his sleep clothes had never been so gentle on his skin as these. The shirt was a cream coloured thing that made his face look less pasty than his usual black undershirt, and the brown pants were loose and warm and only slightly short on the ankles.

Clean and dressed, he perched on the edge of the bed. It bounced underneath him, strangely pliant, nothing like the narrow bunk he was familiar with. Even the bed was different.

Four chewed on his nails, a bad habit from his academy days, before he was stuffed into that armour all day. Everything was overwhelmingly alien here. He should be happy, and yet he just found himself feeling tense, like he was waiting for the punchline. He felt like he was walking into a trap.

The door swished open, and Four leapt to his feet, standing at attention. Dave blinked at him, a tray balanced in hands. "Hi. Food?"

"Yes," said Four, standing aside to let him place the tray down on the tiny little table by the side of the bed.

"I wasn't sure what you liked," said Dave, "so I just got you a bit of everything." 

Dave handed him a full plate, and Four frowned down at it, bemused. "What is it?"

"Um. Well, there's some veg, that's all grown in house, and that’s like a pastry thing, one of our cooks - Agnes - it’s kind of her specialty, and some- are you okay?”

Four nodded tightly. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected the food to be so _strange._ Colourful and hot and in strange shapes and textures and smells. His breakfast, lunch and dinner had consisted of some sort of soy paste, supposedly containing all the nutrients and calories necessary to keep him strong and ready to fight. It was tasteless and grey. Four had never smelled food like this before, never felt so eager to eat. It was like it had him under some sort of spell. “This is for me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dave said softly. “It’s good, promise. You don’t have to eat anything you don’t want, though.”

He picked up the thin metal cutlery that Dave offered to him, holding them clumsily, watching as Dave took his own plate and cutlery, and sat down on the floor, crossed legged. Four said, “Oh, sorry, am I- you can take the bed, I don’t mind.” He shuffled forward, ready to stand.

“No, no, don’t worry,” Dave insisted with a sunny grin. “I’m fine sitting here.”

Four bit his lip. It felt wrong, sitting above Dave like this. “Okay,” he hedged. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive,” said Dave, slicing up some of the colourful food on his plate.

Sneaking quick glances at Dave, Four began to do the same. The knife, at least, was a familiar tool, even if the context was different. It wasn’t as tricky as he feared, and he neatly speared some food, holding it up to inspect it. It was still steaming slightly.

“I promise it isn’t poisoned,” said Dave around a mouthful of food.

Four looked at him to check his sincerity, before taking a slow bite.

Flavour exploded across his tongue.

He inhaled sharply, almost choking himself. It was almost too much. It threatened to overwhelm him, to burn him out of his own mind. He had never experienced anything like it.

“Four?” said Dave, alarmed.

“I’m okay,” Four said, holding up a hand to his mouth.

Dave shifted. “Do you not like it? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“No, I do, I think. It’s just… a lot,” said Four.

“Different to what you’re used to?” guessed Dave.

Four nodded. “Very.”

Dave looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, just take it slow. Don’t eat more than you’re ready to, okay? Maybe I should have gotten you checked out at medical before I-”

“No, no, that’s not necessary,” Four said, words hurried and clumsy. He took another bite for emphasise, smiling as he chewed, ignoring the way his mouth demanded his attention. Stupid of him, to let Dave think there was something wrong with him, to let him think that he might need to see a _medic._ He would show him, though. Four was fine. Four was strong and durable and capable. He didn’t need to be sent to the medic. 

“If you’re sure,” Dave said.

“I am,” Four rushed to assure him. He took another bite, and pretended his stomach didn’t squirm uncomfortably. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments allow me to leech off of your souls to steal your lifeforce for my unaging, immortal existence, so thanks in advance xoxo


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emetophobia warning for this chapter

Dave watched Four push his food around his plate. He had stopped eating a few minutes ago, but seemed reluctant to admit it. It left Dave torn; did he call Four out on it? Or was it best to allow Four to tell him when he was done? But then, what if he would never be willing to take the lead on this? 

Eventually, Dave cleared his throat. “You done?” 

Four nodded, although he didn’t relinquish his plate, holding it protectively close. 

“There will be more food in the morning,” Dave offered. “Promise.”

“Yes,” said Four. He looked down at his plate for a moment longer, before carefully placing it back on the tray.

"It's pretty late. You gonna be okay if I head to bed? I'll just be down the hall."

Four nodded, a complex expression on his face, before he stood and pulled back the bedsheets, getting in with robotic movements. He stared ahead at the ceiling in silence.

Dave stood, watching for a moment. Four didn't exactly look restful. Although maybe that was a result of Dave's presence; it must be hard to relax with the enemy standing next to you. "Goodnight, Four. Sleep well," he murmured.

Fours eyes flicked to him, uncertain. "Good night," he said, the words sounding strange and unfamiliar from his mouth. Dave wondered whether the 'trooper had ever been told goodnight before.

With a brief smile, Dave flicked the light off and ducked out of the room, ignoring how him comlink beeped in alarm at the door opening. He was tired, but buzzing all the same, head full of thoughts and questions with no answers. 

He got into his own bed and tried not to think of Four.

-

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Dave squinted at the source of the offending noise, eyes blurry with sleep, head foggy with dreams of a familiar jungle, of a flat white mask staring at him, blaster wavering in his hand. 

He fumbled with his comlink until he realised why it was making a racket: Four's door had been opened.

Suddenly awake, Dave darted to his feet, racing out of the door barefoot. Four’s door was flung open wide. Dave skidded to a stop before it, eyes roaming the room and finding it empty. “Shit,” he breathed.

Then: a scream.

Dave was running before he had even processed the sound. It was distant, echoing strangely down the halls, and despite all that, he knew in his bones that the sound came from Four. His thighs burned as he sprinted down the winding corridors, following the sounds of commotion until he happened upon the scene.

Four. He was huddled in a corner, knees drawn up to his chest, hands over his head.

Around him, a crowd of bedraggled people, still in sleep clothes, watching. One member of the crowd - a young recruit, Dave thought was he was called Dameron - had edged forward, hands held aloft and spread, crouching down. He was saying something, but Dave couldn’t make it out over the sound of the crowd, all muttering between each other, probably trying to figure out who the unfamiliar, terrified man was.

“Alright,” called Dave, voice firm and commanding. “Shows over folks, clear out.”

The crowd turned, and upon seeing him, began dispersing. Their eyes flicked between him and Four curiously. Dave shouldered through them to get to Four, quickly crouching down beside Dameron, who had yet to move. From this close, he could hear Four now, whining and gasping, words interspersed but mostly incoherent, scattered names and begging. “Six-... Please, please, I won’t- Let me out, please, I-”

“Four,” said Dave. 

Dameron tilted his head, dark eyes wide and confused. “Four?” he whispered.

Dave shook his head slightly, a wordless _not now_ , and Dameron nodded in understanding, backing away to give them more room.

“Four,” repeated Dave. “Can you hear me?” Four gave no indication of it. His eyes were wide and glassy, not really looking at anything in particular. Dave bit his lip, looking to Dameron. “He been like this the whole time?”

Dameron nodded, eyes fixed on Four. “Yeah,” he said. “Won’t listen to anything I’ve been saying. I haven’t touched him - didn’t know how he would take it.”

Dave hummed, chewing the inside of his cheek. He had seen flashbacks before in some of the older rebels, the ones who had seen too many battles, lost too many friends, but he had never seen anything quite so violent and consuming as this. “Four?” he said again, one hand inching forward, scared of causing more damage, but equally afraid to leave Four to his terror. Holding his breath, he reached forward and placed a gentle hand on his ankle.

Four jolted as if electrocuted. Dave froze, and he heard Dameron take a startled breath behind him. Dave swallowed. “Four?”

Green eyes searched for a moment, and then finally locked onto Dave, fog clearing, a spark of recognition taking its place. “Dave?” he said wetly.

“Yeah,” said Dave softly. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

For a second, he thought that Four might be sucked back into hysterics, but instead he released a shaking breath, deflating. “Dave,” he choked.

“That’s right, I’m right here,” said Dave. “Take a slow breath for me, okay?”

Four bobbed is head, taking an exaggerated breath through pursed lips. He held it for a second, and then let it out, whistling through his nose. “Fuck,” he muttered, hands coming up to wipe away the dampness on his cheeks, a salty mess of tears and sweat. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Dave said.

“A lot of people on this base with nightmares,” Dameron added, voice too heavy for a man so young.

Four’s eyes swung around to Dameron, figure stiffening surprise, as if he hadn’t registered his presence at all.

“It’s alright,” said Dave quickly, “This is Dameron, he isn’t gonna hurt you.”

“Never,” Dameron said jovially, shooting Four a wink. “Nice to meet you, uh- Four?”

Four winced slightly at that. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s me.”

“Alright,” said Dameron, rolling up out of his crouch and stretching. “Well, looks like your boy here is gonna take good care of you. I’ll leave you to it.”

“He’s not my- I mean, we’re not-,” stammered Dave, ears burning. He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, except maybe that Four was vulnerable, and Dave didn’t want anyone to think he was taking advantage.

Dameron shrugged, and easy smile on his face. “Alright,” he said, turning back down the hall. He added, “Night!” over his shoulder.

Dave shook off his embarrassment, before facing Four, who was watching with naked bemusement. “You ready to go back to bed?” he asked.

Four sighed. “Yeah.” He pushed himself up onto wobbly legs, one hand leaning on the wall for balance. He was pale and sweaty still, muscles trembling.

“Okay,” said Dave, hands outreached, ready to catch if Four fell. He watched carefully as Four took an unsteady step, arms coming around to cradle his own stomach, shoulders hunched forward. The panic attack must have taken a lot out of him, thought Dave. “You need a hand?”

“No,” Four said, the word quick and short. He shuffled forward resolutely, watching the ground as if it might evaporate underneath him.

Dave followed, keeping close, guiding him when Four went to take a wrong turn. “Almost there,” he encouraged as Four’s steps slowed. His face looked thin and pained. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Four insisted, jaw tight, despite the way his whole frame was shaking. They were at Four’s room now, and he didn’t hesitate to step inside, half collapsing onto the bed. 

“You look kind of sick,” noted Dave. “Are you sure you don’t need to see a medic?”

“I’m _fine!”_ he repeated sharply, eyes hard.

Dave raised his eyebrows.

Four seemed to collapse in on himself at that. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- Sorry. I’ll go if you want me to.”

Dropping down to sit cross-legged at his feet, Dave said, “You don’t _have to_. I’m just worried. If there’s something seriously wrong, and I just ignore it-”

“There isn’t,” said Four, chin close to his chest. “I’m just- y’know shaky from my nightmare. It’s nothing.”

“Okay,” agreed Dave. “Want me to leave so you can go back to bed?”

Four was silent for a beat, mouth pinched. Dave couldn’t decipher what it meant. “Yes,” he said eventually.

Dave pushed himself up to his feet. “Okay. You can come get me if you have a nightmare, you know. I’m just four doors down on the right.”

“Sure,” Four breathed, looking everywhere but at Dave.

Rocking on his feet, Dave took a moment to catalogue Four, the pallor of his skin, the way he held himself tightly, limbs jittery, sweat beading on his temples. With slow movements, he laid the back of his palm on his forehead. _“Shit,”_ he said in surprise. “Four, you’re burning up!”

Four flinched backward. “No I’m not.”

“I think we really need to get you seen by a medic, you’re way too warm, you might be really _ill-”_

“No,” said Four. “Please.”

Dave stopped short at the fear in his voice. “They won’t hurt you, y’know,” he said.

“Please,” Four said brokenly. “I don’t want to-” He cut off, going even whiter than before, hands clasping at his mouth.

“Four?” 

Suddenly, he was up and moving, darting into the bathroom, and then retching loudly, painfully. Dave followed him in, careful not to cut off the exit, and placed a soothing hand on his back. Four grasped the rim of the toilet, knuckles white as he gagged. 

“You’re okay,” said Dave, running his hand along Four’s spine. “It’s alright, you’re alright.”

Four whimpered, dry heaving more a moment, gasping, back arching. He shuddered and spat.

“I’ll get you some water,” said Dave, moving away to fetch a cup. 

Four took it into quivering hands, taking a sip and rinsing his mouth a few times. When he was done, he flushed the sick away, and dropped back to sit against the wall. His eyes were red and tearful, blinking fast. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Dave. “No one will be mad if you’re sick. How about we get you checked out by a medic now?”

Four nodded, exhausted, drooping. “Okay,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have the time, comments really butter my crumpets


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a note to all who haven't noticed the tag: this is Pre-The Force Awakens by a few years, so finn is still a stormtrooper, and poe hasn't met him yet. sorry to disappoint to all who were hoping for some finnpoe!
> 
> also, some medical stuff here. I dropped out of uni, and as such am not going to be a doctor (sorry, parents), so whilst i think it's fairly medically accurate, i can't guarantee it, pls don't quote me on anything

Four shivered miserably. His whole body was on fire, and his stomach rolled threateningly whenever he moved. His muscles ached along with his head, throbbing in time to his heartbeat, a painful rhythm. 

He stood. The walls seemed to waver around him, and he reached out the graze the tiles with his fingertips, trying to find his balance. “Okay,” he said. “To the medic.”

Dave smiled sunnily. It was almost enough to make up for the pit in his gut at the thought of where they were going. “This way,” he said, shepherding him out of the room with a hand on his elbow, steadying him. Four tried not to lean into him.

The hallways seemed to blur, a long grey streak in his retinas, stretching endlessly. Four dreaded their end. Dreaded what came next. Fear burned the inside of his nostrils with each breath, heart threatening to leap from his chest. His knees shook with the impact of each step.

Reality dissolved for a moment.

He blinked and found himself slumped bonelessly against Dave, who had looped his arms around his waist. “Four?” he was saying, voice tinged with panic.

Four groaned in reply, blinking against the lights which stabbed at his eyes, invaded his brain. “‘M okay,” he said.

Dave chuckled lowly. “Somehow, I’m not convinced.”

“I can walk,” Four said, trying to get his legs to function like normal. They seemed insubstantial, wavering and threatening to drop him with each step.

“Easy,” murmured Dave, twisting so that Four’s arm reached over the broad expanse of his shoulders, their hips knocking against each other, taking some of his weight when Four wobbled. 

Four repeated, “I can walk,” but didn’t push himself away from Dave, despite how it left all of his weakness on show. It was too easy to let himself be steadied, guided, despite where they were going. His commander had always said that he lacked leadership qualities, and clearly he was right; Four was as easily led here as he was back with the First Order. He hated himself for it. He just didn’t know how else to be.

“This is the medbay,” said Dave, voice calm and non-threatening, despite it all.

He took a moment to step away from Dave, trying to stand up straight and strong. “I’m ready,” said Four.

Dave put a hand on his elbow as they stepped through the doorway. Four resented it as much as he craved it. He was sure that the medic would note it down, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask Dave to stop, so he just pretended it wasn’t happening.

The bright lights were what Four noticed first. They were the broad, sharp fluorescents that were common in First Order bases, harsh against his eyes and reflecting off of every surface. The room was white and sterile, with doors lining the walls, and a small medic station. A man with skin so blue it was almost black was sitting behind the desk, sorting through datafiles, his feet up on the desk in a posture that would have gotten him decommissioned if any of Command had caught him. He looked up and blinked at Four, mouth parted. 

“What happened?” the man asked, darting towards them. Four had to stop himself from flinching back.

Dave said, “He’s ill. Where’s Dr Kalonia?”

“I’ll comm her,” the man replied. “Here, let’s get you sitting down first of all.” He opened up room 6 - which made him think of Sixes, which made him think of dying, which made him stop thinking altogether. 

The room was bigger than Four had expected, and warmer too. It was still sparse and white, but the blanket on the bed was a sky blue, and soft looking. Despite that, Four felt his knees locking at the doorway. He reminded himself that it was okay, that this was what had to happen, but he couldn’t convince his body of the fact. 

“It’s alright,” said Dave, palm still resting on the back of his elbow. 

Four nodded, taking a sharp breath in. He could feel Dave’s eyes on him, and the medic’s too. He couldn’t outrun them. There was only one thing to do. 

He stepped into the room woodenly, sitting on the edge of the bed, despite the way his instincts begged him not to. The blanket was a soft as it had looked, and Four’s fingers dug into it, the damp of his palms sticking to it. His head was dizzy and light on his shoulders, like it might just float away, so he subtly pinched the underneath of his thigh until reality felt more certain. 

The blue skinned man turned a chair to face Four and sat down. “I’m just going to ask a few questions and run some basic tests before the doctor gets here,” he said, voice measured. “What’s your name?”

Four glanced at Dave, unsure what to say. He didn’t want to disobey the medic, but he didn’t necessarily want him to know who KL-0040 was, didn’t want him to know that he was treating an enemy. He wasn’t sure whether this man made decisions on whether to treat or simply decommission, or whether that would be Dr Kalonia’s call, but he would rather play it safe. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Dave just frowned, clearly not understanding his predicament, and the silence had already stretched out too long. Heart hammering, Four said, “KL-”

“Klaus!” blurted Dave, too loud and too hasty to sound casual. 

The medic side eyed him for a moment. “Klaus?” he echoed, glancing back at Four questioningly.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “That’s me, I’m Klaus.”

The medic half-smiled, and Four - _Klaus -_ wasn’t sure what it meant, except that it didn’t seem good. “Alright, Klaus,” he said, “I’m Neros. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

Four - Klaus, _Klaus, Klaus, remember -_ said, “I’m okay. I’m just feeling a little, uh…”

Dave pulled the other chair over, and sat close. “He’s been dizzy and vomiting, and I’m pretty sure he has a fever.”

Four glared. “That makes it sound worse than it is,” he argued. “I’m operational, I’m not-”

“ _Klaus,”_ said Dave, voice heavy with meaning. “We’re here to make sure you’re okay. You need to be honest with the medics, okay?”

“...Okay,” he said reluctantly.

Neros cleared his throat. “Okay then. Any pre-existing health conditions?”

“No.”

“Any medications?”

“No.”

“Alright. I’m going to take your heart rate, blood pressure and oxygenation,” Neros explained. He held up a small, innocent looking clip. “I’m just going to put this on your finger, okay?”

Four nodded tightly, and allowed the medic to pinch his finger with it. It didn’t hurt.

Neros hummed. “Heart rate is a little high, oxygenation low. Can you take a few deep breaths for me, Klaus?”

Quick to obey, Four sucked in a slow breath, ignoring how it shook.

“Still fast, but a little better,” said Neros. He jotted down the reading, and then took out a different instrument. “Now your temperature.”

Four felt the thing come towards his head, and couldn’t control the way he twitched back from it. Was this it? Had they decided to decommission him now, thought it kinder to pretend that they were going to help? Four wasn’t _ready._

Neros backed off, dark eyebrows drawn low. “Woah, it’s okay. Just a thermometer, alright?”

Dave reached out to touch Four’s knee, fingertips just grazing. “Hey, you’re alright. It won’t hurt, it just goes in your ear.”

Four checked Dave’s face for any dishonestly, heart in his throat. Dave smiled back at him. “Sorry,” he breathed.

“It’s no problem,” said Neros. “I should have explained first. Are you ready now?”

“Yes,” said Four, sucking in his bottom lip and holding still. 

Neros took his temperature with slow, deliberate movements. His eyes lingered on Four in a way that made him feel observed and embarrassed, like the other man expected him to snap at any moment.

When the thermometer beeped, Four barely concealed his startle. Neros took it out, frowning. “Definitely high. How long have you been feeling unwell?”

“F- Klaus?” said Dave.

Four clamped a hand over his mouth, pallor going distinctly grey. Neros was quick to notice, pressing a disposable bowl into his hands moments before he started retching. He spat up bile, shaking harder when Neros touched his shoulder lightly.

“You’re okay,” Dave said quietly, and Klaus attempted to lock onto the sound of his voice.

When he eventually stopped, Neros was quick to take the bowl from him, replacing it with a clean one. “I’ll just get rid of this,” he said, oddly cheerful for someone holding the contents of someone’s stomach.

When they were alone again, Dave ducked forward, expression serious. “Sorry about that. With the name, I mean. I figured you probably didn’t want to get into the whole stormtrooper thing.”

“It’s okay,” he replied. “I kind of like it.”

“What? The name?”

“Yes. _Klaus._ It sounds nice. _”_ His mouth quirked into a smile.

“Yeah?” said Dave, smile looking almost shy.

Klaus felt a laugh bubble up in his throat, a strange, alien sensation. “Yeah, I do.”


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for needles and non-con drug use (also a teeny bit of non con body modification, sort of?)

Dave was so wrapped up in Four - no, _Klaus -_ and the way that he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled with the moment of genuine joy, that he had momentarily forgotten where they were. He startled slightly as Neros returned, this time with Dr Kalonia behind him.

Kalonia shot Dave a brief smile. She had treated Dave many times, probably too many, always scolding him for how reckless he was, despite him always insisting that whatever scrape he had found himself in was none of his fault. "Well, isn't this novel," she said with a sly look. "Dave Katz is in my ward, and for once, it isn’t because he just returned from doing something foolish."

"In all fairness," countered Dave, "I'm sure I _have_ done something foolish. Just nothing that's led to me getting injured."

Rolling her eyes, she said, “So, Klaus. Sounds like you’re quite under the weather.”

Klaus looked at her with wide eyes, silent. Any tension that he had dropped, it had all gathered back up, bunching his shoulders and pinching his mouth. 

Kalonia looked at him for a moment, her dark, clever eyes softening slightly. “Well, from the sounds of things, it’s probably just a stomach virus. Not a fun time, but nothing too dangerous. However, considering how high your temperature and heart rate are, I would like to run some bloods, check we aren’t missing something. That sound okay to you?”

He blinked at her, before belatedly saying, “Yes, that’s fine.”

“Good,” she said, taking out a blood kit and gently taking Klaus’ arm, unfolding it and passing a sterilizing swap over the crook of his elbow. “Feel free to squeeze Dave here’s hand if it hurts, I’m sure he won’t mind,” she teased.

Dave felt his face heat up, but held a hand out in offering all the same.

Klaus frowned. “It’s just a normal needle?” he asked. After Kalonia hummed an affirmative, he continued, “Why would I need to hold someone’s hand?”

“Well, aren’t you brave,” said Kalonia, tone just a little patronising if you knew her well enough. 

Withdrawing his hand, Dave said, “Some people don’t like needles.”

“Oh,” said Klaus, eyebrows drawn low. 

“There we go, all done,” said the doctor, sealing the blood sampled and pressing a cotton bud to the site. “Neros, mind running those for me?”

“Sure thing,” said Neros, taking the samples with practiced ease. 

“So, Klaus,” said Kalonia, “have you been doing any travelling off-planet recently? Particularly, have you been anywhere you could have picked up any obscure contagious diseases?”

Klaus’ eyes flicked to Dave quickly, who interjected, "Yavin 4." That was where they had met, where the ambush had been set up. Dave wasn't sure where the First Order base was, but if he had picked up a virus, it was doubtful that he would get it there; they were notorious for being isolated places, away from civilization.

Kalonia pursed her lips. "Must have just gotten it from someone else on base, then. With so many people here, things spread fast."

Neros appeared in the doorway then, mouth a flat line. "Kalonia," he said, nodding out the doorway in a subtle request. Dave wondered whether it had anything to do with the blood test.

"I'll just be a minute," Kalonia said, following Neros out of the room.

The second that the door shut behind them, Klaus blurted, “I still have more information.”

“What?” said Dave, thrown.

“About the First Order, how it all works, I could still be valuable,” Klaus continued, eyes burning into Dave’s. “You’ve barely had a chance to question me-”

“Four- _Klaus_ , I don’t understand,” said Dave. “What are you-”

“Just- Just don’t let her decommission me, okay? Not yet, at least, I can still- I can still answer questions, and I’ll get better soon and I can fight, I can do whatever you need, just-”

Dave felt horror pool in his gut, cold and sickly. “ _Decommission?_ What-”

Before Dave could ask for an explanation, something to stifle the terrible, half formed guesses that we’re choking his thoughts, the door opened, the doctor strinding back in. Noticing the tension, she said, “Everything okay? Katz, you better not be harassing my patient.”

“No, ma’am,” Dave said distractedly.

The doctor humphed, taking the empty seat and addressing Klaus. “We’ve got your blood results. Would you like to hear them in private?”

“What?” Klaus asked blankly.

“I can throw Dave here out, if you don’t want him to hear,” Kalonia said cheerfully.

Klaus looked to Dave, eyes wide and wary, as if trying to guess the right answer. Eventually, he said, “No, sir- uh, doctor, ma’am. It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

“Well, just let me know if you change your mind,” she said, eyeing him with a thoughtful expression. “So, I didn’t find any signs of a virus in your bloods.”

“Oh. That’s- good?” said Klaus.

“I did, however, find traces of several drugs. Specifically, a stimulant, what might have been a simple sleeping medication, low levels of opioids, and another drug which, frankly, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

Dave gaped, turning to Klaus, who was equally stunned. “I- what do you mean?” Dave asked when it looked like Klaus wasn’t going to say anything.

“Well, it certainly explains the symptoms - withdrawal syndrome can be quite uncomfortable, and depending on how long you’ve been taking them, potentially dangerous. _Why_ anyone would be taking this combination of drugs, I couldn’t say, and I suspect it’s something _you_ won’t tell me,” she said knowingly. 

Dave turned to Klaus, who was stock still, expression pale and shocked. “Did you know- were you taking anything?”

Klaus muttered, “No, but they could have- in our food, maybe.”

“But why-” Dave cut himself off, shaking his head. “What effect would these have, long term?” he asked the doctor.

Kalonia looked at him, gaze probing, before saying, “Stimulants to wake you up, and something else to make you sleep. The opioids would prevent you feeling pain. And the last drug? It’s - well, it could be used in combination with hormone therapy by women with hormone disorders, or by trans women, but at this dosage? Without any other medications to balance it? This is…”

Shivering, Klaus said, “What?”

“The only reason I could think of would be chemical castration,” Kalonia said eventually, the words tight and choppy.

“Chemical…” Dave echoed, mouth slack, uncomprehending. “You don’t mean…”

“It’s not something most people would take by choice,” she said grimly. “At least, not at this dosage.”

Dave took a shaking breath. There was something so dehumanizing about it, he thought, to treat people like cattle, drugging them in their food without their consent, attempting to medicate them into the perfect killing machines, not to be distracted by anything. Soldiers were people, and people aren’t perfect. Factors like insomnia, sleepiness, pain, even sex drive - they were all things that had the potential to distract them from their work. So the solution? A cocktail of pharmaceuticals. Hidden in their food.

“Sorry,” whispered Klaus.

Blinking in surprise, Dave looked up from where he had frozen, hands curled into fists in his lap, jaw tense and teeth grinding. Looking at Klaus, though, had the indignation draining out of him. “No,” he rushed to reassure him, “I’m not mad at _you.”_

“Oh,” breathed Klaus, slumping in relief.

Kalonia observed this with her sharp eyes. “I’m guessing that there’s a reason for all this, but I’m also guessing that it’s above my security clearance to know it,” she mused. 

Dave quirked a half smile. “Sorry. Nothing personal,” he said.

“As long as I can treat my patient,” she said. “But if you’re withholding anything that could impact his treatment? Then you and I are going to have _words,_ David Katz.”

“Understood,” said Dave, balking.

“Now, Klaus,” Kalonia said, softening, “the next couple weeks aren’t going to be a lot of fun. I’m going to prescribe you some clonidine for the opioid withdrawal, but it’s still going to be pretty rough, especially for the next few days. I recommend plenty of rest, plenty of water. If you can, try to eat regularly, but come back if you can’t, okay?”

Klaus tongued the inside of his cheek, eyes averted, brows pulled low. “So,” he said, “you’re going to- to treat me?”

Kalonia made an amused sound. “What did you think I was going to do? Throw you out on your ass?”

No, thought Dave. Something far worse.

“Sorry,” said Klaus. “Of course not.”

The word _decommission_ echoed in the empty spaces of the medical wing, in the hollow chamber of Dave’s chest, making his heart squeeze and tongue seize. Dave looked away from Klaus, formerly KL-0040, and thought to himself, _decommission:_ what an impersonal word for murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chemical castration, for anyone who had the pleasure of not knowing, is a real thing used to treat 'sexual deviancy', famously in the case of Alan Turing, after his arrest for homosexual acts. fun fact!
> 
> comments and caffeine are the only things that keep me writing, so feel free to shower me with compliments below


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for some more in depth discussions of dehumanization

Klaus felt his heart stammer in his chest. They weren’t going to decommission him. _They weren’t going to decommission him._

If he could survive the next couple of weeks, he might just be able to pull this off, might just convince them that his usefulness was greater than the resources he drained. In the meantime, all he had to do was be patient, pliant, and offer enough information to keep them interested, without them thinking he had depleted all of his intelligence. 

For the first time since Dave had pointed that blaster at his head, Klaus thought that his death might not be so imminent. 

Klaus tried to tune back into the conversation, although he wasn’t sure whether the instructions were really for him, or for Dave. The prescribed medication was handed to Dave, afterall, who was listening attentively, asking questions. Four had always been a terrible listener at the academy, his commander always scolding him for it. Klaus hoped that he could be different now, just like his name, but it didn’t seem likely. The doctors' words refused to resolve into sentences. It didn’t help that his head was thumping, muscles shivering and twitching. His skin itched and burned in turn. 

“Ready?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Klaus reflexively said, “Yes, sir.” Then, upon realising his mistake: “Sorry. Yeah, ready.”

Dave gave him a probing look for a second, before adding, “We’re just taking you back to your room.

“Right, yes,” Klaus said, more convincingly than before. 

“But first,” said Kalonia, holding out a little plastic cup of water and a pill, “your first dose.”

Klaus obediently took the pill from her, placing it at the back of his tongue, before taking a sip of water. He had never taken a pill before, but he was familiar with washing down their soy paste with water when the taste became too unbearable, which, it turns out, was full of drugs anyway. The medication went down easily, and he hoped it would settle the rolling of his stomach. He stuck his tongue out to show it was gone.

Kalonia had a complicated look on her face for a moment, before she said, “Good. Well, go get some sleep, and feel free to come back if anything comes up. Dave, you better take care of him, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dave said agreeably, pocketing the bottle of pills, and strolling over to his side.

Klaus allowed him to help him up, leaning into him when the walls tilted and warped, and Dave wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him balanced. The pair started out of the room, but then Klaus stopped, turning back to the doctor, who was already tidying up behind them. “Thank you,” he said feverently, hoping she understood that he was grateful for more than the medication.

She looked up, expression startled, and said, “You’re welcome.” Her voice was stilted and unsure. Her eyes flicked up to Dave and then back, and her mouth pulled into a gentle smile. “You’re welcome, Klaus. Any time.”

Allowing himself to breathe out his relief, Klaus turned back to the door, shuffling awkwardly. His arms were wrapped around his stomach protectively. Dave’s arm was a hot line across his back, and he had to remind himself not to melt into it entirely, to keep his legs moving, trudging back towards his quarters. 

“We’re not going to decommission you, y’know.”

Klaus stumbled, tripping over his own feet, flailing and uncoordinated until Dave caught him, pulling him against his chest. He let go once Klaus found his feet again, and the little step back he took felt like too far. “What?” breathed Klaus.

“What you said earlier. We wouldn’t do that,” said Dave.

“You don’t know that,” Klaus said, mouth twisted up, eyes guarded.

Dave shook his head stubbornly. “I _do_ know. I wouldn’t let that happen to you, Klaus. I swear.”

“Don’t. You don’t get to decide that,” said Klaus, voice shaking. His lungs felt like they were shrivelling up in his chest. “Don’t.”

“Klaus,” said Dave, taking a step forward. Klaus didn’t remember backing away, but he must have, because there was some distance between them now. “ _No one_ gets to decide that. Not even the general. Not here.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Klaus snapped, palms itching with frustration. He couldn’t understand why Dave was looking at him like that, earnest and full of pity. He didn’t like it. It made him feel small.

“That’s not how the rebellion works. Nobody _murders_ each other, especially not because they aren’t useful enough,” Dave insisted.

“It’s not _murder,”_ cried Klaus.

Dave stopped still at that. “It’s not-? So, decommissioning, it isn’t killing?”

“Well,” Klaus said, thrown. “Well, yeah, it’s- but it isn’t _murder,_ that makes it sound-”

“How is that not murder?” asked Dave, face screwed up.

“Murder is- that’s for _people._ Stormtroopers aren’t people. It’s like- if you threw away one of your own possessions, would that be a crime?” said Klaus, struggling to explain something that had always been so implicit to him.

Dave’s lips pressed into a pale line. When he spoke, each word was carefully controlled, firm but not emotional. “You aren’t a possession, Klaus. People can’t be _owned.”_

“ _We aren’t people!”_ Klaus hissed, his eyes glinting with denial and fear. 

“How can you say that?” said Dave. “You’re-” He choked off, shaking his head, before closing the gap between them. He took Klaus’ hand into his own, and positioned it so that their palms touched in front of them, fingers splayed out, mirroring each other. “ _Look._ We’re the same. Look.”

Klaus swallowed. Their hands were similar - not identical, Klaus hands were slimmer, fingers more knobbly, and Dave’s palm broader and calloused - spread from the fingertips down to the heel. Dave’s hand was slightly tan, while Klaus’ was pale and milky, but they were both undeniably human. 

Klaus tore his hand away as if the touch had burned.

“No,” he said. “Just- Just stop, okay? I can’t- I can’t-”

Dave put his hands up, non-threatening - those hands that were so similar to his own, so similar to Sixes’, similar to Number One’s, similar to D’s hands - and stepped back. “Sorry,” he said, “sorry, I’ll stop. Just breathe, okay? Take a breath for me.”

It was only then that Klaus realised he had stopped breathing. 

He took a shuddering breath, the burning of his lungs easing as he sucked air in. “Sorry,” he gasped out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- to-”

“It’s alright,” Dave said easily. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

Klaus ran his palms over his face, his skin sweaty and warm. His heart was still hammering. He felt unsettled and dizzy and nauseated and _tired,_ so tired. “Can I just go to bed?” he questioned hesitantly. 

“Of course,” said Dave.

As they walked the rest of the way back, Dave didn’t touch Klaus once. He wondered whether it was a punishment. Klaus couldn’t believe his own gall, not just disagreeing with his superior, but almost _shouting_ at him. Back with the first order, that would have been enough to be sent to reconditioning at least, possibly even decommissioning if they were in a bad mood. If this was a punishment, he thought, it wasn’t so terrible. Sure, it was difficult to navigate the halls when the floor seemed to tilt and spin at random, and his knees wobbled under his own weight, but it wasn’t all bad. Klaus wasn’t sure he wanted to be touched right then. He felt overwhelmed, like everything was hitting him at once, pressing against his skin and choking his airways. The lights were too bright in his eyes. Their footsteps echoed in his ears. His own clothes, which had seemed so lovely and soft earlier, felt irritating on his skin, the sensation blinding. 

When he made it to his room, he was glad to slip under the sheets and press his face to the pillow. He closed his eyes tight. 

Then he heard Dave settle down on the floor, and his eyes flew back open. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” said Dave, “I’m not just going to leave you alone when you’re sick. That wouldn’t be right.”

Klaus squinted at him, thrown. “I- Why would you…?”

“What if you need something? What if you’re too ill to come get me?” asked Dave, fingers twisting together in his lap.

“I’ll be okay,” said Klaus. He couldn’t quite figure out what Dave was doing. Maybe it was just a fancy way of saying that he didn’t trust Klaus to be alone, especially after he had gotten mad and shouted over nothing, and wanted to keep him under surveillance. Except, Dave seemed genuinely concerned. Maybe this is what people did here? Keep sick people company? Help them get better, rather than disposing of them when they threatened to drain resources? 

“My ma would never forgive me if I left a sick person to languish all alone,” said Dave, smiling sheepishly.

Klaus let out a slow breath. “Fine. But at least sit on the bed, or your ass will go numb before I fall asleep.”

Dave laughed at that, teeth white and shining in the dim light. “Alright, as long as you don’t mind.” He stood, knees creaking, and plopped down by Klaus’ feet, back to the wall. 

“Fair warning,” said Klaus, daring to tease just a little, “I have been told that I kick in my sleep.”

“Don’t worry,” Dave replied sunnily. “I can dodge.”

The hard knot that had formed in Klaus’ chest loosened at the easy banter, and he laughed lightly into his pillow. “Goodnight, Dave,” he said, eyelids heavy. His body ached, but it all seemed more distant as sleep began to fog his mind.

“Goodnight,” whispered Dave. “Sweet dreams, Klaus.”


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: a mild reference to incest - just a misunderstanding which is quickly cleared up, but i wanted to warn y'all just in case. (as in all of my fics, there is no incest here.)

Dave’s eyes felt weighted. Each time he blinked, he had to fight to pull them back open, gritty and dry, begging him to sleep. It would be so easy; he could just slip downwards, breathing into the silence, dragging down, down-

A sharp inhale. He had been nodding off, again. A glance at his comlink told him that it had been about an hour since Klaus had gone to bed, and he seemed truly asleep now, face slack, lips parted. It had been a while since he had last vomited, and Dave thought that he would probably sleep through the night now, the clonidine easing the withdrawal symptoms enough that they wouldn't wake him. He wouldn’t miss anything if he took a nap now. Klaus would be fine, and if not, he was only at the end of the bed.

Still, a clawing sense of worry stirred his guts. 

Their conversation earlier was still replaying through his mind, the defiant certainty when Klaus had told him that he wasn’t a person, the mounting fear when Dave had told him he was. He hadn't quite realised until then just how distorted his world view was. Klaus was more of a person than most people on this base, overflowing with personality, unable to stifle it, even when he was terrified and waiting for death. How could he not see that? Dave didn't know how to convince him, and was worried that he was only making things worse by attempting it.

Yet, it wasn't in Dave's nature to just let it go. He just needed to change tactics. With patience and time, he was sure that Klaus would start to relearn, start to see how cruel the First Order had been, especially in contrast to the resistance fighters, who didn't treat even their enemies so poorly. It would be hard to accept, but then at least he would know what he was worth something- worth everything.

A foot collided with Dave's shin, jerking him out of his thoughts. Klaus was, as he had been warned, kicking out in his sleep. His face was screwed up in a grimace. Small, frightened noises fell from his throat, wordless but rhythmic, like a sentence heard underwater. 

“Klaus?” said Dave, shuffling down the bed, careful to avoid flailing limbs. He reached out a cautious hand, and took one of Klaus’ fists between his palms. “Klaus.”

His eyes opened. Klaus sucked in a sharp breath, going still and silent, eyes rolling blindly for a beat before fixing onto Dave. He mouthed a noiseless _oh_ , before sinking back into the mattresses like a deflating balloon. 

"You okay?" Dave asked. It was stupid, when Klaus was clearly the opposite of okay, but he didn't know how to ask anything helpful, and he could bear the silence. 

"Yes," said Klaus, voice cracking.

His eyes had a hollowness to them, something worse that the fury and fear of earlier. Dave almost wished that he would cry, or yell, or something, anything to prove that he really was a person, and not some husk that the First Order had created. Dave knew that the thought wasn't fair - people dealt with trauma in strange, often contradictory ways - but the emptiness was making the air feel thin. 

"Sixes used to do this for me."

Dave stiffened in surprise. "Sixes?" 

Klaus nodded, rustling the pillow. "He had the bunk above mine. So when I woke up from a nightmare, he would dangle his arm down, and I would reach up and-" He cut off. Swallowing loudly.

"Were you two- uh, I mean-"

"What?" Klaus asked, all innocent confusion.

Dave wondered why he never thought before he spoke. Who knew if Klaus was even aware of the concepts Dave was thinking about? "Were you two- romantically involved?"

Klaus wrinkled his nose. "No, no, we weren't _partners._ That can get you sent straight to decommissioning. It's a kind of treason, being loyal to a person rather than the Order. Besides, I could never- not with _Sixes._ We grew up together. That would be… no."

"I get it," Dave said in understanding. "You were like siblings."

"I didn't say that," Klaus said quickly, sitting up. 

"Okay, okay, sorry," Dave said, bemused. 

"I mean," he said, eyes flitting around as if to check they were alone. He ducked closer, lowering his voice, and asked, "is that allowed here?"

"Is what allowed?" 

"Being- like- y'know, what you said. With your squad?"

Dave made a small noise of realisation. "Like family?"

Klaus nodded, wary eyes not leaving his.

"Yes," responded Dave. "You won't get in trouble for that. For having a family."

"Oh." Klaus sunk back down into the bed. "Then, yeah. We were like siblings. Except, if you said that, you would get sent for reconditioning."

"Why?" 

"Because you aren't supposed to have those feelings. The First Order is our family, and that's who we must be loyal to," Klaus said with the air of reciting something.

“That’s-” Dave shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m still surprised by how awful the First Order are. I mean, the resistance is made up of at least 50% idiots with hero complexes, but it really makes you appreciate how good we have it here.”

Gleefully, Klaus said, “I can’t believe you just _say_ things like that, whatever you’re thinking. Aren’t you worried that someone will overhear something?”

He looked around theatrically, as if checking the room for spies. “Think it’s just us here,” he teased.

Klaus breathed a laugh, rolling into the pillow to muffle the sound. “What about the mic’s?”

“The what?”

“Y’know. Microphones. Cameras. That kind of thing.”

“No, no, there’s no-” Dave shook his head, brows pinched. “We aren’t being monitored. We have privacy here, at least in the bunks and ‘freshers.”

Another laugh, this one vague and sleepy as he fought against the pull back to sleep. “Mhmm.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are,” Klaus deadpanned.

“No, really. Look.” Dave turned his face upward, as if speaking to a hidden monitor somewhere. “I think that General Organa- smells. Like, really bad. And, uh, Han Solo? Not even that attractive!”

_“Dave!”_ Klaus cried, a scandalised smile growing on his face. “Stop!”

“And I think that the First Order? Cool dudes. Gotta love some fascism, right?”

Laughter bubbled out of Klaus’ throat, and he tugged on the hand still held in Dave’s, as if to get his attention. “Quit it!”

“Alright, alright,” Dave acquiesced, a wide smile splitting his face.

Klaus blinked heavily, a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. “You’re crazy,” he said fondly. “Okay. Tell me more about the family thing. What’s that like?”

Dave’s smile turned gentle. “What you said about the First Order, about not being allowed to have attachments to your squad… the resistance isn’t like that. Here, it’s kind of the opposite. You’re supposed to care about the people you’re fighting next to. That’s how you remember what you’re fighting for.”

Tugging his blanket up higher, Klaus gave an appreciative hum.

“People have friends, or romantic partners, or kids, or siblings, or whatever they want. Everyone’s… connected.”

Klaus’ eyelids fluttered closed. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy and dark. “I like that.”

“Me too,” said Dave. He looked down at the hand which he still held in his, and ran his thumb over the knuckles. “If I could, I would go and break Sixes out for you. You must miss him.”

“Mm. Been missing him for a while. He died a few years ago.”

Ice flooded Dave’s veins. “Oh. Klaus, I’m so sorry.”

Klaus was almost fully asleep now, face lax and peaceful. He mumbled drowsily, “S’okay. I still see him, sometimes.”

“What?” said Dave.

But it was too late; Klaus had already floated away.


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Big Fatigue got me, i haven't proofread this even tho i wrote it in a doctors waiting room,, but it is done so here it is

Klaus woke to an ache in his bones.

For one, groggy moment, he felt a fleeting panic, because _pain_ meant _sick,_ meant _decommissioning,_ but then he felt the pillow under his head, the softness of the blanket keeping him warm, and he recalled all at once where he was. Then, the reason behind his pain. 

“I thought those pills were meant to stop me feeling gross,” Klaus moaned into the pillow.

A faint chuckle reached his ears. “I don’t think Kalnonia said that. Besides, you haven’t thrown up in… ten hours!”

“Such an achievement,” Klaus said.

“Isn’t it?”

Klaus flinched at this new voice. 

“Klaus?” asked Dave.

He drew in a breath. “Nothing,” he said. This happened sometimes; usually, by the time he looked for him, Sixes was already gone.

“Want some breakfast?”

Klaus screwed his nose up, but sat up anyway. Food didn’t sound appealing, but he had learned long ago not to turn it down. “I guess.”

“I love the enthusiasm,” Dave said dryly. He looked all sleep rumpled, hair sticking up strangely, all soft and relaxed. Klaus liked it. 

Then, a knock on the door.

He drew in a sharp breath, spilled out from under the covers and stood on shaking legs, scrambling to stand upright, at attention. 

“Woah,” said Dave, hands outspread. “Probably just Dr Kalonia checking up on us.”

“Oh,” said Klaus. He wasn’t sure who he had been expecting, but the dread suggested someone bad, like his CO, or a firing squad.

Dave got the door, all relaxed lines and steady hands, and it was almost infectious. Klaus should feel something more than mild nerves. Then the door opened, and Dave’s posture went stiff. 

“Leia- I mean, General. I wasn’t expecting you,” said Dave. 

The General smiled, lenient. “I know,” she said cheerfully, striding into the room like she owned it - which, Klaus thought, she probably did.

Silently, Klaus averted his gaze, holding himself still and submissive. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said. “Klaus, is it?”

He wasn’t sure what the right answer was. What if he said yes, and she knew that it was a lie, that he was a number, not a person? 

She coughed slightly. Klaus got the feeling that not answering was just as bad as any answer he could have given. “And Dave. Don’t think I didn’t notice you breaking the rules.”

His stomach swooped at that, and he couldn’t help but glance up at Dave, scared or what could happen next. He was too attached to Dave already, couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt.

“Sorry,” Dave said sheepishly, “but he really needed a bed. He’s- sick.”

The General hummed. Klaus couldn’t decipher her. “At least pretend to care about protocol next time, okay? It makes me look bad.”

Klaus blinked. Was that it?

“Yes, I will,” said Dave. 

“I’m not convinced,” she replied, voice too jovial for someone reprimanding a failure.

Dave laughed. _Laughed._ “Understandable.”

“Klaus, why don’t you sit,” the General said. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

He was quick to obey, partly because he was feeling pretty dizzy.

“To be honest, the rule breaking wasn’t why I decided to visit,” said the General.

Ah. Klaus had known that it couldn’t be that easy.

Dave frowned, seemingly unconcerned. “Huh. I can’t _think_ of any other stupid things I’ve done recently.”

The General made an amused noise. “Well, I’m sure that’s a lie. Not the point.” She shook her head. “Klaus. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Klaus sucked in a startled breath. “Um. No, ma’am.”

Cocking her head, she said, “Really?”

Wide eyed, Klaus replied, “Really.”

“Hm,” she said. “Klaus, are you aware of The Force?”

Klaus gaped for a moment. Every time he thought he had a grasp of this conversation and the direction it was going, it did a 180, leaving him spinning. His stomach was in knots, and he was starting to break out in a nervous sweat. “I mean- theoretically, yeah. Like, Kylo Ren, right?”

She went slightly stiff at that, and Klaus wondered what he had said wrong. “Yes, in a way. And you haven’t ever experienced a connection to it… personally?”

“Leia, what’s…” interjected Dave.

The General waved him off. “Klaus?”

“I-” he stammered. “No. I mean, I’m- just a stormtrooper.”

“Really?” she asked, expression knowing. Knowing _what,_ Klaus had no idea.

“General, what’s going on?” Dave asked.

She looked away from Klaus, and he felt like he could finally take a full breath. “Today, I felt something. An awakening in the Force.” She glanced between them.

“You don’t mean-” Klaus blurted.

Dave squinted. “He’s Force sensitive?”

“What? No, I’m not-”

“Klaus,” the General said gently. “Are you telling me you’ve never- done something that shouldn't have been possible? Experienced something strange, inexplicable?”

Klaus went silent.

Dave edged closer to him, reaching out until his fingers danced across his elbow. “Klaus? Are you- Are you okay?”

Klaus wrapped his arms around his ribs in a pseudo-hug.“I’m sorry, but none of this makes sense. I- I’m no one. I’m just a stormtrooper, like any other ‘trooper. My name is KL-0040, okay? I’m a _number._ A number.” He was speaking faster and faster, voice thin and wobbly, shaking with his body. “I’m not- _the Force?_ No. No.”

“Okay, okay,” Dave said. He sounded far away.

Klaus wobbled onto his feet. “I just don’t- I don’t understand.” He stumbled slightly, attempting to find his balance despite the way every was spinning. The air seemed too thin, like when the oxygen converter broke once on base and everything was dizzy and slow, panting breaths that did nothing to stop the lightheadedness. 

Dave was there. He guided him down to the mattress, pausing to make sure that Klaus was stable before retreating a few inches. “That’s okay, Klaus. It’s alright.”

Klaus put his head between his knees. He felt untethered, floating away. He rubbed his palms over his face in an attempt to ground himself.

After a beat, Leia observed, “You didn’t say no.”

“What?” said Dave.

“When I asked about inexplicable experiences.”

Looking up through damp eyelashes Klaus agreed, “No, I didn’t.”

The General smiled at him, warmer than anything he had seen with the First Order, as if nothing Klaus could say would be wrong. 

Swallowing his fear, Klaus said, “Sometimes… I see ghosts.”

“Sixes,” Dave said in realisation.

“I’m not- I know it sounds like I’ve gone mad, but I see them,” Klaus said. “Mostly my- brother. Sixes. Hear him, even, sometimes.”

Nodding thoughtfully, General Organa said, “It’s not unheard of, for Force sensitive people to see spirits, especially of people close to them. My brother, in fact…” She trailed off, eyes distant, before shaking herself, eyes fixing back on Klaus. “The thing that I don’t understand is why I couldn’t sense you until now. Normally, I can immediately sense any new Force sensitive people. We- call out to each other. But you… it’s like you were blanketed by something else, something that muffled the sound of it.”

Dave made a small, sad noise.

Klaus gave him a puzzled look. "What?"

A beat. "All those… the drugs they had you on. What if they…?"

"What drugs?" General Organa questioned sharply.

Flushing red, Klaus explained, "In our food, they were giving us… a lot of stuff."

"And it could have been suppressing your abilities," mused the General.

"Oh," whispered Klaus, the sentiment echoed from behind him, the presence in the room that he had been studiously ignoring, the presence that was getting clearer as his blood got cleaner. 

"So, when you say that you _see ghosts_ ," Dave said, "do you mean you literally…?"

Helplessly, Klaus turned around, letting himself look to the flicker in the corner of his eye. "Yeah," he breathed. 

Sixes' face lit up. "Hi, Four. Or, Klaus, I guess."

"Hi," Klaus said, blinking damp eyes. And then: "I think I'm gonna throw up."

Dave tried to grab him, pulling him clumsily towards the bathroom, and Klaus stumbled over his own feet, only managing to travel about a metre before-

He vomited on the General's shoes.


	11. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back bitches!!!!
> 
> shout out to Penn, who independently came up with the exact same idea as me for this part. like, right down to the fine details. same brain cell? or jedi mind tricks? who's to say?

Dave tried to redirect Klaus, but he wasn’t fast enough to prevent Leia getting vomit on her shoes.

“Oh, shit,” uttered Klaus, sagging dangerously close to the ground.

“Woah,” Dave said, tugging him away from the puddle and back onto the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus whined damply. “I’m so sorry, oh god, I-”

Leia snorted. Her mouth twisted into a half smile, her nose wrinkled slightly, but eyes warm. “I did raise a kid. I’m no stranger to a little puke.”

“I can clean it,” he replied determinedly, despite his grey pallor. He had stopped making eye contact. “I’ll fix it.”

“Or,” said Dave, “You can lie down and get some rest.”

“Seconded,” Leia said, kicking her shoes off and padding over to the bathroom to grab a towel. 

Once it looked like Klaus was going to stay sitting - still tense, shaking, but either tired or understanding enough to see reason - Dave ducked into the bathroom to grab the cleaning fluid from under the sink. 

When he returned, Leia had already begun soaking the fluid up. “Isn’t this a little below your paygrade?” he joked.

“You think I get paid?” she retorted dryly.

"Fair point." He began helping with the cleanup, but found himself distracted by Klaus. He seemed to be muttering under his breath, eyes bouncing around at something unseen, subtly shaking his head as if in quiet conversation.

"Is it Sixes?" Dave asked.

Klaus looked up. He flushed, caught. "Yeah."

"How's he doing?"

"He's-" Klaus swallowed. "He's okay. Just… it's been a weird few days."

Leia smiled at the understatement. "That it has. I can't imagine the culture shock."

"It's nice here, though," said Klaus earnestly, perhaps a little desperately, as if trying to earn his place with his appreciation. "You've all been- And I've had my own space, and food, proper food, even a _name."_ Dave thought that the list was depressing; all things that Klaus should have always had. It put a bad taste in his mouth, hearing Klaus be so grateful for being treated like a human being.

"I was wondering about the name thing. Did you come up with that yourself?" She asked.

"Dave did," Klaus told her, tone turning closer to cheerful.

It was his turn to blush. "He needed a cover for the med ward," he explained.

Leia nodded in understanding. "Lucky he chose you a nice one then, hmm?"

Klaus beamed, despite the fatigue lining his face. "Yeah, Dave's the best." Then he stopped, listening to something unheard, expression pensive. "Mm."

"What did he say?" Dave encouraged.

"Uh," Klaus faltered, uncertain. "Sixes was saying that he would have liked a name, too."

"Of course," Dave said, feeling vaguely guilty for not offering. "Does he have any ideas?"

Klaus lifted a shoulder. "Neither of us know many names to choose from."

Leia tapped a finger on her chin and asked, "What kind of person is Sixes?"

"What do you mean?" Klaus asked.

"Well, names usually have meanings or connotations,” Leia explained. “So the name should suit him.”

“Oh,” Klaus said quietly. Then, “Does my name suit me?”

“I think so,” Leia said, smiling. 

Bolstered, Klaus said, “Okay. Well, Sixes was - is - pretty quiet. He was a good fighter, but didn’t like fighting. He liked stories.” 

She thought for a moment. “A long time ago, I met a man like that. He was once a jedi warrior, but he left it behind for a life of peace. He was a hero.” Her eyes were distant as she spoke. “His name was Ben.”

“Ben,” Klaus echoed, as if trying it out. He turned to the empty space again, eyebrows raised. “What do you think?” A beat of silence. Klaus grinned widely. “Yeah, me too. _Ben._ ”

With a satisfied air, Leia said, "Excellent. Now we have that sorted, I think it's time to talk punishments."

"What? You can't be serious," Dave spluttered. He had pulled at lot of dumb shit since signing up with the resistance, certainly things more dangerous than releasing a prisoner without proper authority, and he had never been penalised before.

Then he saw the look in her eyes, meaningful, and he realised that this wasn't about him at all. Klaus had gone small and still, face milky white. He looked terrified. So, that's what this was: a learning experience.

"No flying for a week," she said firmly. 

He made a show of it, huffing, shoulder sagging. "Fine."

His disappointment was purely fabricated. If anything, he was happy; a full week to stay with Klaus. 

"Wha- That's it?" Klaus asked, sounding vaguely stunned.

Leia turned to him. "What did you think I was going to do? Ground him for _two_ weeks?" She questioned. "I'm not a monster."

"Right. Of course," Klaus said faintly.

Leia nodded, smiling quietly to herself, before striding out of the room, purposeful and graceful as always.

"Well," Dave said, lounging against the wall. "Looks like you're stuck with me."

"How terrible," Klaus deadpanned, lips twisting at the edges.

Dave sat next to him, and gently placed the back of his hand on his forehead, and said, “Well, you don’t feel too warm.”

“Ugh, don’t,” Klaus said weakly, swatting his arm away. “I’m all gross and sweaty.”

“I’ll live,” Dave said. “Do you need anything? Water?”

Klaus looked at him, unanswering, the silence drawing out between them. He was still shivering lightly, muscles tense, anxiety from Leia’s visit yet to wear off. Then, just as Dave started to think he wouldn’t reply, Klaus said, “Why didn’t you just shoot me?”

“What?” asked Dave, wrongfooted.

“You could’ve- I just, I keep thinking about it,” Klaus said, licking his lips. “You had a clear shot, could have just…”

  


_He ran. Hot, wet air, sucked in as Dave panted frantically, his feet pounding the spongy jungle ground. He clutched his blaster in his sweaty palm, and he thought about laying down some cover fire, shooting blind, but what if his copilot was still alive out there?_

_The trees are a green smudge, dizzyingly tall, and he’s scared that he’s running the wrong direction, away from his ship and into a trap, but he can’t slow down, not when he can still hear the ‘troopers shouts. He could only run._

_A flash of white. A body collided with his, hard enough to send Dave sprawling. The air was knocked from his lungs, and he wheezed in, turning onto his side. The ‘trooper was untwisting themself, pushing up onto their armoured knees. They didn’t seem to have their blaster - but then, neither did Dave. It had gone flying upon impact, and now it lay on the ground, a little ways away from Dave. Right next to the trooper._

_Dave dove down, hand outstretched in a desperate bid for the weapon, but the stormtrooper was faster than him, snatching it up and swinging it around to point at Dave._

_“Fuck,” Dave uttered, scrambling back and onto his feet, hands held up in surrender._

_The ‘trooper stood, watching him through that faceless armour. He had a clear shot at Dave. Dave was unarmed, with no back up, and oh god, this was it, wasn’t it, because stormtroopers never hesitated to shoot, never hesitated to kill, except-_

_This stormtrooper was hesitating._

_It was hard to read it, without being able to see their expression, but the gun wavered in the air, finger just grazing the trigger. Why wasn’t he shooting?_

_Dave’s heart was in his throat. He could barely breathe around it, frozen in agonising terror._

_Across from them, behind the trees - heavy footsteps, crushing the jungle dirt. The ‘trooper half twisted towards the sound, head turning automatically, and Dave thought, now, now, now, and he was moving before he could think of a plan, wrenching the blaster from their grip. The stormtrooper grasped for him, but Dave was too fast, spinning the weapon in his hand so that it pointed at the shining white armour. The ‘trooper came to a sharp stop._

_Crashing out through the trees, another stormtrooper had found them, lured in by the commotion. He was aiming straight at Dave._

_In a dire gamble, Dave grabbed the first trooper and tugged him in front of him like a shield, his blaster pressed against his head in a clear threat. For one, fear soaked moment, he thought to himself, stupid, stupid, because stormtroopers weren’t sentimental, they were soldiers, mercenaries._

_But then the newcomer was saying - stammering, really - a choked out word, and even through the crackly quality of the helmet, Dave could hear his agitation. “F-F-F-” He cut himself off, a jagged sound._

_Dave thought he could hear his hostage (oh god, hostage, Dave had taken a hostage) take a shaking breath._

_“Don’t shoot,” Dave called out, braver than he felt. “I’m getting to my ship, and I won’t hurt them, as long as you don’t hurt me. Okay?”_

_It wasn’t their M.O., Dave knew, to let a fugitive run free for the sake of one stormtrooper, but it was the only leverage he had. He fervently prayed for it to work._

_And the stormtrooper-_

_The stormtrooper lowered his weapon, slowly, just slightly, but enough for it to be a signal to go._

_He took an unsteady step backward, and his hostage took a step back with him. He thought he could feel them tremble, beneath all the armour. Edging backwards, Dave muttered, “I’m not gonna shoot you, okay? Just- Just don’t try anything.”_

_A slight nod was his only reply._

_Eventually, the other ‘trooper fell out of sight, and Dave continued dragging this other person with him, up into his ship, because as much as he wanted to free them, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be shot out of the sky as soon as he lifted off._

_He shut the doors, and took a step back from the stormtrooper. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Dave said. “I can’t let you go, though. I’m going to put us in the air, and then we can talk, okay?”_

_Another terse nod. Dave lowered the nose of his blaster a few degrees, still held aloft, but not quite as aggressive. One handed, he punched in a route and put the ship into automatic. He wondered whether one hostage would be enough to prevent having TIE fighters siked on him. There was no way he could out-maneuver them in this old freighter - the thing was inconspicuous, but not exactly ready for a fight - and he wished that he had argued more to risk using his X-wing._

_His eyes slid, momentarily, from his adversary to the controls._

_In his peripherals, he saw the ‘trooper move, hands reaching for the damn blaster again-_

_Dave pistol-whipped him over that stupid helmet._

_He dropped, lax._

_Sighing to himself, Dave said, “Well, that’s one way to do it.”_

Dave swallowed tightly. “You hesitated first. When you had the blaster, you could have shot me.”

“I really couldn’t have,” Klaus said.

“Why not?”

Klaus shrugged, a look of shame upon his face. “I’m not very good at it. Killing people.”

“Well,” Dave said, “I’m really glad.”

His green eyes lit up. Lips quirking into a smile, Klaus said, “Y’know what? Me too.”


	12. XII

It was a week later, and Klaus was beginning to feel a little less like death personified.

He still felt a little shaky and weak, out of sorts, but the bone deep ache of withdrawal was easing off enough that he had become more energetic, more animated than even before the withdrawals, because now he could speak whenever he wanted. Klaus supposed that he had years of chatter stored away, because now words flowed as easy and warm as the resistance showers did. 

Dave seemed happy to humour him, listening dutifully, only ever interrupting to ask questions about what Klaus meant. Usually it was stuff about the First Order, things that weren’t common practice here. He still couldn’t quite process just how different things were here. It felt like a joke, like at any moment it could be snatched away, but it just made it all the sweeter. The things that Dave took for granted were precious and novel to Klaus. 

Food, for example. Now that his nausea was easing off, Klaus had found himself excited to eat, to explore all the strange tastes and textures that he had been denied. Dave attempted to bring something new every day, even trading for people’s personal food stashes when the cafeteria didn’t have what he was looking for. Klaus thanked him for it profusely, knowing that there was nothing he could offer in return, but Dave always assured him that watching his reactions made it worth it.

Today was the first time that Klaus was going to eat in the cafeteria.

Ben had, unseen, visited the place already, and assured Klaus that he would love it. He described it as chaotic and weird, just like Klaus. Klaus had smiled at the idea of that.

He was nervous, but determined to do it, curious about seeing the rest of the base and excited to choose his own lunch. His one comfort was that Dave would be at his side.

On their way out the door, he couldn't help but catch Dave's arm and ask, "Are you sure this is okay?"

"Of course," Dave said easily.

"But what if-" Klaus stopped, swallowing noisily. "What if they know what I am?"

"You mean, what if people know where you're from?"

Klaus nodded rapidly. "Yeah."

Dave scratched his jaw, expression thoughtful. "I won't lie, gossip does spread fast on base, but either way, no one is going to hurt you, okay? You're one of us now."

“Right,” said Klaus, shaking his limbs out. “Okay.”

The walk to the cafeteria was long and confusing, and Klaus would really like a map, except that he didn’t want them to think he had ulterior motives. He tried to memorise the turns, but he kept getting distracted when someone walked past them, or Dave brushed close to him, and lost his train of thought. How long until Dave didn’t have the time to guide him around? 

As they got closer, sounds of chatter began to echo down the halls. It sounded wild and rowdy, loud enough that Klaus found his heart jump. Speaking at meal times was cause for reconditioning. But he wasn’t there anymore, and things were different here.

He couldn’t help but falter in his steps as they approached the doors. Dave reached out and squeezed his hand, lips pressed together in sympathy. “We don’t have to,” he reminded him

“I know,” Klaus said. “Let’s go.”

The room was even more disorganized than he had imagined. They didn’t seem to have any kind of seating chart; people jammed in wherever, in clusters rather than evenly spread. It seemed impractical. Klaus loved it.

“Here’s where we queue up for food,” Dave said, leading him towards a line of people. There was a counter containing foods, and it seemed to be wavering with heat, keeping the food warm for them. 

The people in front of them were requesting food, and an older lady behind the counter dressed in pink served it up for them. They chatted easily together, all friendly smiles, and it made Klaus equal parts happy and nervous. It couldn’t be any further from what he was familiar with.

Some of the food he recognised from what Dave had brought him. Others were new to him, and he wanted to try everything, greedy with his excitement, although he probably couldn't fit everything on a plate. He tried to believe there would be time later.

"Afternoon, Agnes," Dave greeted cheerfully.

"What can I get you- oh, you have a friend! Who's this?" she asked curiously, smiling. She was dressed in pink so bright that Klaus almost had to squint, and he wished his clothes were so vibrant.

"This is Klaus," Dave said after a moment.

Klaus added, "Hi!"

"Nice to meet you," she replied, and wasn't that a concept? Meeting Four had never been a cause for happiness. Meeting Klaus? It was _nice._ "So what would you like?"

"Um," hummed Klaus. "I don't really know what any of this is."

"Oh," she said, and then her expression flickered with recognition, or realisation. Klaus swallowed nervously. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "How about I give you a few things to try?"

Brightening, Klaus said, "Sure! I've liked almost everything I've tried so far. It's all so good, way better than what I used to eat."

"Oh?" Agnes asked, smiling widely as she piled his plate.

"Mm, they used to give us soy paste," Klaus said with a wrinkled nose.

She tutted as she passed his plate over. "Well I-"

"Wait, is that the _stormtrooper?"_

His blood froze in his veins.

The man who had been standing in line behind him had clearly overheard the conversation - how stupid he had been, discussing these things openly - and now they knew who he was, what he was. They knew _what he was._

He distantly registered Dave step in front of him. "Hey man," he said, voice hard, "don't start this."

Incensed, the man snapped back, "Don't- he's a stormtrooper! And you're parading him about like a new puppy!" 

Dave squared up, battle ready, and Klaus couldn't let him fight his own people. He caught his hand, tugging him back. "Dave, don't," he muttered, face flushed with shame. The cafeteria was going quiet as people noticed the stand off.

"He's dangerous," the stranger was insisting, louder now, gaining momentum. "For all we know, he's killed our friends, our family. He's one of _them."_

"Please," Klaus said, and he wasn't sure who he was saying it to.

"This is your last chance," Dave said. "If you-"

"Hey!" chimed a new voice, casual and friendly. Turning, Klaus saw a vaguely familiar pilot striding towards them. "Four, right? You're looking much better."

Klaus twitched as the man clapped a hand on his shoulder, not hard enough to hurt. He knew this guy. He had been the one to try talking him down from his panic attack, that night he had gotten lost after a nightmare. His name was- Dameron? "Hello," he replied, voice almost nonexistent.

"Why don't you guys come sit with me and my squad?" he asked, still casual, despite the tension, Dave still facing the stranger. "Dave, you coming?"

Dave slowly said, "Let's go."

Sandwiched between Dave and Dameron, Klaus was led away, across to a table already half occupied, all of them watching the procession carefully. Klaus averted his eyes.

"Guys, most of you already know Dave here, and this is Four," Dameron said, regaining his seat. The person next to him shuffled over to make room for the newcomers, and Klaus gratefully slipped into the seat, ducking his head down so that he didn't have to see anyone's reactions.

Dave made a noise. "Um, he goes by Klaus now, actually."

"Klaus," echoed Dameron, turning the word over in his mouth. "I like it."

"Thanks," uttered Klaus, barely above a whisper.

The table dissolved back into chatter, but Klaus couldn't follow any of it, still shaking from the earlier confrontation. The stranger's words echoed in his mind. Klaus couldn't blame him for hating Klaus, considering the circumstances, but he hoped that Dave wouldn't be lumped in with him. Dave deserved better.

"Hey," Dave said softly, "you okay?"

"Yeah," said Klaus, picking up his utensils, despite having no appetite. He felt bad for taking so much food, only to let out go to waste, so he forced himself to eat.

The cafeteria was loud, but he could still hear whispers, sense people's eyes on him, looking at the enemy in their midst.

"Hey, Dameron?" Klaus murmured. "Thank you for- well, you know."

The man smiled toothily. "Anytime, man. Ignore those idiots, alright? You're one of us now."

Klaus swallowed thickly. "Thank you."

"And call me Poe," he added.

He nodded. "Okay, Poe."

A ripple why through the room, voices turning hushed, reverent, and Klaus knew why before he turned: the General.

She was marching straight towards him.

Stamping down on the urge to stand, Klaus smiled thinly. He wondered how long until he could speak to her without feeling like he was in trouble. It was even worse, with everyone staring at them; he felt like he was about to be made an example of.

"Klaus," she greeted lightly. "Nice to see you're making friends."

Privately, he thought that friends might be overstating things, but he replied, "Yes, thank you."

"I hope these boys are being nice. They both have a penchant for getting in trouble," she noted, eyes flicking between Dave and Poe.

The two of them spluttered, earning laughs from the rest of the table.

"Leia, how could you say that," Dave said, mock wounded.

"Easily," she replied archly. "Klaus, I was wondering whether you would like to meet with me after lunch for some training?"

_Training._

"Yes, of course," Klaus said numbly.

She said, "Excellent. Dave can show you where my office is.”

"Sure," said Dave, seemingly oblivious.

“Excellent. See you then,” she said, giving a nod to the rest of the table before departing.

Dave nudged their shoulders together. “That’s awesome, right? Training from Leia Organa herself.”

Klaus pushed his plate away, stomach rolling. “Yeah,” he said, mouth dry. “Awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shockingly, i think i have an actual plan for this fic now! as always, comments are fuel, and im at tumblr under the same name<3


	13. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a brief interlude from the other end of the galaxy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as requested by penn, Diego's POV

_DG-0022 stared into the bunk above his head._

_He knew that he should be asleep by now, making use of the brief rest period, but he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing those last moments of KL-0040 being dragged away, remembering the aching hesitation, and how in the end he did nothing._

_“He must be dead by now.” He didn’t really think before speaking. It just sort of bled out of him without permission, the pressure inside his chest too great to control it._

_“Go to sleep, D,” said LU tiredly from the bunk above._

_DG-0022 grit his teeth. “I’m just saying. It’s been t-too long. There’s no way he survived this long.”_

_“He always got the best scores in interrogation resistance,” VN-7770 spoke up._

_It was true - Four had always had a talent for those classes - but it did little to assuage the twisting guilt that DG-0022 felt. “That’s different. They need us to be functional after those. The real thing-”_

_“Would you stop?” snapped AL-3000._

_“I’m just saying,” DG-0022 defended hotly._

_“Well stop just saying,” AL-3000 said. “I don’t want to think about it.”_

_This was fair, DG-0022 thought. It was just that he couldn’t_ stop _thinking about it._

_“It’s weird that they haven’t replaced him,” mused LU quietly._

_“You can’t just replace him,” DG-0022 said._

_LU sighed. “No, I know. I just mean- a squad of four? That’s practically unheard of. I get not replacing Five or Sixes, but now?”_

_“Maybe they’re just going to let us die off,” suggested VN-7770 morosely, “one by one.”_

_The sound of someone rolling over echoed in the room. "Our squad never made sense,” said AL-3000. “All our scores are different, and we came from different cadet groups. It’s not standard.”_

_Shuffling around in the bunk, LU told them, “We shouldn’t be speaking like this. If someone checks the mics…”_

_The squad fell silent, all thinking of the kind of trouble they could get in, not just speaking when unauthorised but questioning the First Order like that._

_DG-0022 wrapped his arms tightly around himself. He hated being here like this, not knowing what happened to KL-0040, just like they never knew what happened to Five._

_At least with Sixes, they knew it was quick._

_Into the dark of the room, he made his confession. “I should have shot Four before I allowed them to take him.”_

_For a long moment, no one said anything to that. He supposed because they all knew it was the truth._

_In the end, the only response was LU, telling him, “Go to sleep, D.”_


	14. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter, it was super motivating, so i've actually got a couple chapters written now!

"Are you excited?" Dave asked.

Klaus had gone quiet since that rude guy in the queue, sullen and shaky, and Dave didn't know how to pull him out of it. He was weakly attempting distraction as he led Klaus to Leia.

"Yeah," Klaus said under his breath.

Dave frowned; Klaus couldn't sound any further from excitement. "You know you don't have to train if you don't want to."

"No, no, I'll train," Klaus quickly assured him.

"Alright," said Dave, stopping outside Leia's door. It was unmarked and unceremonious, just like any other door in this place. Leia had modestly said that she didn't need to be treated like the princess she once was, but Dave suspected she also did it to be harder to find and ward off any unwanted visitors. "Do you want me to come with you, or…?"

"Can you do that?" Klaus asked, eyes wild and frenetic. "Is that allowed?"

Dave said, with as much nonchalance as he could muster, "Sure."

“And you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Dave assured him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. Honestly, it wasn’t a hardship. He was curious about the training and the force and all that, always had been, and the idea of watching _Klaus_ wielding that kind of power was-

Not because it was Klaus, of course. Anyone using the force would be just as interesting, obviously.

He rapped on the door.

“Come in!” called Leia. 

Dave pushed open the door to find Leia hastily shoving her desk into the corner, face pink with exertion, the rest of the furniture pushed up against the walls. The space in the middle was empty except for a little speaker, a stick of incense, and a pebble.

“Take a seat, Klaus,” she commanded.

“Um, mind if I stay?” Dave asked sheepishly.

She eyed him and said, “Will you be quiet whilst we work?”

Instead of replying, Dave mimed zipping his mouth shut, lips quirked up into a smirk, and took a seat on the floor by Klaus. Leia followed suit, sitting opposite and folding legs under herself.

“So I wanted to begin with a discussion about any times you may have tapped into the force unknowingly, as a base for your training,” Leia said.

Klaus shifted, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I don’t, uh, I don’t think I’ve really done anything like that before.”

“What about seeing your brother- Ben?”

“Oh,” said Klaus. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“And how long has that been happening?” she asked, lighting the stick of incense with deft hands.

With a nervous scratch of his neck, Klaus said, “Since he died, I guess. Although it wasn’t as… clear, as it is now that I’m sober.”

Leia hummed. Tilting her head, she asked, “Did you ever get the sense that your superiors” - she spat the word like it tasted bitter - “were aware that you had these powers?”

“No,” Klaus denied, almost reflexively, before hesitating, sucking on his lower lip. “I mean. I don’t think so?”

“What is it?” Dave softly questioned, laying his fingertips on the wing of his shoulder. Leia didn’t bother to scold him for interrupting.

“Well, our unit was always kind of- weird. Not standard. Like, we all started out in different cadet groups, and then were put together, but our test scores weren’t even similar,” he pondered. “It never really made sense. We were elite, but we weren’t the highest scores.”

Leia leaned in. “What about your squadmates? Did they ever show signs of being force-sensitive?”

Klaus turned his head, eyes catching on an empty space. Dave assumed that Ben was standing there. He nodded to something unheard, brows drawn low over his eyes, and said, “Yeah, that’s true.”

“What’s true?” Leia prompted.

Startling slightly, as if Klaus had forgotten they were there. “Some of us had. Skills? I mean, we all had skills, obviously, but some of us were almost _unnaturally_ skilled,” he explained. “Like, my br-... my brother, he could hit a target with whatever he threw. We all had marksmanship training, obviously, but he broke the record for throwing knives.”

“That could be something,” encouraged Leia.

“And my- sister. She was… this is going to sound dumb, but she was _convincing._ She had this way of getting people to do what she wanted. I always thought she was just persuasive, but sometimes it was like- like they didn’t even know they were doing it. People would bend rules for her, and then seem confused about what they had done,” continued Klaus.

“Creepy,” interjected Dave.

Leia sighed pointedly.

“Sorry!” he defended. “I’m just _saying.”_

Klaus laughed, for a moment breaking the strange mood he had been in. “No, you’re right.”

“So, do you think it was intentional?” Dave asked. “Putting together a squad of elite, force-sensitive stormtroopers?”

“Why, though? They kept us so drugged I could barely hear Ben,” Klaus argued.

“But did they know that the drugs had that effect?" said Leia. “Besides, it makes it easier to keep an eye on all of you.”

Klaus shivered. “They always did watch us more than the others. I thought that our CO was just creepy like that, but maybe…”

"Okay," Leia said decisively. "Let's move on. I'd like to start a simple training exercise."

He nodded his head, the motion jerky and fast, face pale. He looked worried. Dave reached out to take his hand and squeeze it, receiving a grateful smile in return, before retreating; Leia had made him promise not to interrupt, after all.

"It's nothing exciting," Leia said as she fiddled with the speaker until a faint sound of water spilled out. The white noise made the room a little more alive. "I just want you to sit here and breathe. Try to explore your senses, reach out with them, and then if you can, use that energy to move this pebble."

"I can do that," confirmed Klaus, folding himself to mirror her crossed legs. He took an audible breath. His hands grilled his knees tight, knuckles pale, and his eyes fixed onto the small stone before him.

Unfortunately, stillness had never been his strong suit.

It wasn't long until Dave caught him fidget, although it was subtle, just a twitch of his boot, as if he was curling his toes inside. His mouth thinned. The muscle in his jaw popped as he tensed. Dave studied these little movements openly, transfixed. Leia shot him a knowing glance; Dave looked away.

Klaus broke.

"Okay, sorry, I just have to ask," he blurted, "when are we going to start… actual training?"

Leia burst into a laugh.

Dave-

Didn't.

Something about it didn't sit right with him, made his laugh die in his chest. Klaus didn't seem cheeky or sarcastic, eyes not twinkling with mirth like they usually did when Klaus made a joke at someone else's expense. Instead, he looked tightly coiled, muscles bunching, gaze low. He looked less like Klaus and more like Four.

Missing this, Leia said, "I know, it's not as fun as anyone expects. My brother was bored through most of his training, but it worked. Some things take patience."

"No, it's not that," Klaus said, ducking his head. Sorry. I just- you haven't even hurt me yet."

Dave felt his stomach drop to his toes.

Face frozen, Leia uttered, "What?"

Klaus shifted, glancing up from under his lashes. "I just- I'd rather know now, if that's okay."

"Klaus," Dave said, unable to sound anything but pleading, "we aren't going to hurt you."

His lips parted for a moment, expression muddled, before saying, "No, I don't mean _hurt_ hurt. I know you wouldn't hurt me for fun. I just mean, yknow, training."

"I will not be hurting you in the name of training," Leia said tightly. "Under no circumstances are we going to do that."

An impatient look was gathering on his face. "You're not listening. I don't mean anything bad, just- negative reinforcement. You need punishments to learn not to make mistakes."

Leia didn't have a response for that.

The hiss of the white noise machine seemed suddenly loud. Dave licked his lips, searching for something to say, something that would fix all this.

"That's not true," he eventually settled on. "Learning can happen without any pain."

"No, I know, it doesn't have to be _pain,"_ said Klaus, "but a punishment, yeah? Consequences."

"Like what?" Dave asked.

Klaus fell silent. His hands knotted together in his lap, and he tilted his face away slightly, eyes landing on the wall opposed. "Like. Um. So the usual ones didn't work that well on me, I guess because I have a high pain tolerance, or maybe I'm just a bit stupid," he said, rallying on when Dave made a noise of dissent, "so they started putting me in- in isolation, if I messed up."

"Isolation?" echoed Dave. Honestly, it didn't sound as bad as he was expecting, considering the way Klaus was trembling slightly at the memory.

"Yeah," he said. "My CO would put me in the- it was the room they used to decommission ‘troopers. We all called it the mausoleum. It's funny, because it shouldn't be that scary, should it? But he would leave me in there for hours. In the dark. Sometimes I thought I could hear them, the people they killed. I always thought it was my mind playing tricks on me, but maybe I really could hear them." He took a shaking breath word. His hands knotted into his dark curls, and Dave ached to ease them out, hold them tight.

“Klaus,” Leia said, face stricken. “I swear to you that I have no intention of using any- _punishments.”_

“But… what if I can’t learn without them?” 

Leia shuffled forward on her knees and held out a hand to Klaus, patiently allowing him to take it, hesitant like it might be a trick. When he obliged her, she let out a slow breath, and then said, “If that’s the only way you can learn this, then I would rather you never learned at all.”

His expression went blank at that. Eyes blinking rapidly, he said, “But don’t you want me to be- useful?”

“You can be useful in your own way, in whatever way you choose to be,” she told him firmly. “Your place here isn’t conditional on how useful you are to us, okay?”

It seemed this was not okay. Klaus looked one wrong word away from tears, bottom lip trembling, eyes too big and too shiny. “I don’t understand,” he admitted.

Leia smiled, and pushed herself to her feet. “That’s okay. You will eventually. In the meantime… I think we should end the training session here.”

“Oh,” said Klaus. He stood on shaky knees, and Dave edged closer, ready to support him, even though the worst of withdrawals had already passed and he probably wasn’t needed. “W-What now?”

“Now,” said Leia, “you get some rest. Dave will take care of you, I’m sure.”

Dave had to resist from scowling at her sly tone. “That’s what friends are for,” he said, obnoxiously dismissive, and then he took Klaus’ hand into his own.


	15. XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for... very subtle insinuations of predatory behaviour towards kids. it's barely there, but i don't want to catch anyone unaware

"Come _on_ ," whined Klaus, dragging the words out.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," said Dave, shoving his feet into his boots. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Just as sure as I was last time you asked," Klaus teased.

He made a face. "Right, okay, my bad," he said. "I just don't want you to feel obliged."

Dave had been extra cautious since the attempt at training, almost _overprotective_ , constantly checking in with Klaus. It should have been annoying, but Klaus just found it refreshing. No one usually bothered to ask how he felt about things.

"I don't feel obliged," Klaus countered, "I feel _bored_."

He had spent the last few days 'resting' - a novel concept to Klaus. It mostly involved eating excessive amounts of food, and being introduced to (and subsequently binge watching) holovids. It had been fun, but left Klaus with too much energy, needing to move and talk and see.

They started the route to the cafeteria, which was still only half familiar. Dave said, "I just don't want you to be worried about anyone saying anything."

From behind the pair, Ben dryly noted, "I don't think Klaus is the one worrying here."

Klaus snorted.

"What did Ben say?" Dave asked.

"Nothing," sang Klaus. "Come on, I want to eat! I still haven't tried everything."

"Yeah, yeah," says Dave, leading them into the cafeteria.

The chatter dipped as people recognised Klaus, switching to low whispers, but no one approached them. Klaus suspected that Leia showing such blatant acceptance of him had put a damper on their mistrust - which was probably her intent. She reminded him of his sister in that way. 

Poe wasn't at his usual table, but some of the pilots they had sat with last time were there. The smaller group were laughing, looking so at ease, and Klaus couldn't help but wonder whether his siblings could ever be like that, if given the chance. "Do you think they would mind if we sat with them?" 

"We can ask," said Dave with a strange fondness on his face.

"What's that look for?" Klaus asked, feeling inexplicably flushed under his gaze.

Dave shook his head, turning away to pick up the tray of food. "You're just so- so willing to meet new people, even when most of your experiences have been shit. It's brave."

Klaus almost choked on a laugh at that. "Don't be mean," he said.

"No, I'm being serious!" Dave insisted. 

Unable to tell whether he was being made fun of, Klaus said, "Whatever, Dave." It was a word that he had recently picked up - _whatever -_ and delighted in using at any given opportunity.

'Whatever, whatever," Dave said laughingly, picking his way across the room towards the pilots, who all glanced up at their approach.

Klaus felt his guts twist up in anticipation. He scrambled for something to say, something casual and cool, but blanked. Fortunately, a woman in a pilot's uniform quickly greeted, "Hey! Klaus, right? Come sit with us."

He gratefully plonked down on the bench, Dave following suit with the food. "Hey," Klaus said. "How's things?" The words were still a little strange in his mouth, but he was pleased at how they sounded.

"Things are good," she said with a wide grin. "I'm Jess, by the way."

"Hi, Jess," Klaus said, matching her grin.

Dave shuffled in his seat. He had an expression that Klaus couldn't quite decipher.

Jess turned her eyes on Dave. They seemed extra dramatic, somehow, dark and bold against her face. "Heard you got grounded," she said teasingly.

"Yup," said Dave with a long suffering sigh.

"Oh, that's my fault," Klaus blurted.

Dave took a sudden breath, no doubt ready to argue the opposite, but Jess cut in, "Somehow I doubt that. Dave has never needed any help getting into trouble before this."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Dave questioned with a wounded look.

Jess shrugged. "You have a reputation."

"A reputation," Dave echoed. "Great."

"You're almost as bad as Poe, and that guy can't go on a milk run without causing an intergalactic crisis," she added.

"Is every resistance member some kind of danger magnet?" Klaus asked sardonically.

Dave smirked. "It's a requirement."

"Maybe I'll fit in here after all," Klaus joked. He himself had a reputation for trouble back home - or at least, as much trouble as one can get into without being decommissioned for it.

Features softening, Dave said, "I think you fit in just fine."

"I'm sure Dave would love to fit you in anytime," said Jess nonsensically. She winked, the motion exaggerated by the dark rings and them. Dave made a weird noise, but Klaus was distracted, and paid it no attention.

"Hey," said Klaus, "how are your eyes like that?"

She blinked. "Like- oh, my eyeliner?"

"Eyeliner," he hummed. "It's pretty."

"Oh," she said, flustered. "Thanks."

"Can I- have an eyeliner?” he asked curiously. He thought it might suit him, contrast nicely with the green. He wasn’t used to choosing these things, how to dress, how to look, but the idea of doing something just for the joy of it excited him.

An easy smile lit up her face. “Sure! I think I have a spare that you can use.”

Excitement lit up inside his chest, unexpected and fresh, and Klaus had to tamp down on the urge to move, to flail his hands or jump up and down. In all honesty, he isn't sure that he's ever experienced _excitement_ before.

-

That night, as per Jess' instructions, he made sure to wash the eyeliner off. It felt like a loss, somehow, and even though he had only learned to use eyeliner that day, he felt like he looked less himself without it. At least he could put it back on in the morning.

The room was quiet as he dropped into bed, Dave already gone for the night. Klaus could tell that sleep would be a while coming; his head was too abuzz with thoughts. He had never thought too much on the future before, but now that it was something to look forward to, something that Klaus had some measure of control over, he found himself adrift with possibilities.

Klaus sternly told himself to stop thinking so much. Unsurprisingly, this was ineffective. He sighed, and tried instead to focus on his senses, like Leia had told him. The softness of the sheets, the whisper of his breaths, the smell of fresh laundry and hair conditioner.

Eventually, Klaus drifted.

He was somewhere sandy. 

He had seen sand before, but only from behind the barrier of his stormtrooper uniform. Now he was barefoot, still dressed in his sleep clothes, and could feel the strange, sharp-soft texture under him, getting between his toes and sticking to his heels as he stepped.

There was someone here. He could feel it.

Klaus closed his eyes and tried to reach out with his true sense.

"Four."

He startled, turning in place and kicking up sand.

Breathless, he gasped, "Five?"

The boy looked back at him, face inscrutable and inexplicably unaged. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," Klaus said faintly. Then, "We thought you were dead. Are you- I mean, are you dead?"

A wry twist on his lips, Five said, "I almost was."

"What happened?" questioned Klaus. "You never- you never came back for us."

"I know," said Five. His eyes looked older than his years. "I couldn't. It's… complicated."

"Complicated?"

"Frozen in carbonite levels of complicated," he elaborated.

Klaus shook his head, pressing his palms to his cheeks. He felt overheated. "I- what? Do you mean… you're still...?" He waved an unsure hand at his brother's small form.

"A teenager?" Five snapped, crossing his arms, effectively making himself look like the teen he was. "Yes."

"Shit," Klaus whistled. "How long has it been for you?"

Five looked away, squinting across the horizon, and the youthfulness seemed to drain from him, leaving him world weary. "I don't know. How long has it been?"

Klaus smiles thinly. "I don't know, either. At a guess- seventeen years? It's not like we've been celebrating our birthdays." Birthdays were a new concept that Dave had taught him about; just another thing that he and his siblings had missed out on.

"Seventeen," he mused. "So she kept me like a fucking ornament for at least sixteen years."

"She?" echoed Klaus.

With a grim look in his eye, Five said, "The Handler."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clarification for anyone who hasn't watched the original trilogy: 
> 
> carbonite is a substance that sort of 'freezes' people, or puts them in hibernation. in the movies, one of the characters is frozen and used as wall decoration, as a kind of trophy of their capture


	16. XV

When Dave joined Klaus that morning, he found him mid conversation with Ben. Well, conversation was probably a misnomer: Klaus was hissing, quiet but frantic, hands moving in big gestures like when he got worked up.

The second that Dave entered, he clammed up.

"Good morning," Dave said breezily, ignoring the obvious tension. "How are you?"

Klaus swallowed. "Good," he said, standing from his crossed leg pose, refusing to make eye contact as he did so. "Let me just redo my eyeliner and we can go to breakfast."

Dave rocked on his heels, unsure whether he should call Klaus out or give him space. In the end, he tried to find a middle ground. "You seem kinda tense. I can go get food if you want."

It seemed the obvious source of this new, frenetic energy Klaus was jittering on, but he shrugged it off. "Nah, it's fine. Can't leave my fans waiting." The joke was stilted, but Dave laughed anyway, because those kind of self aggrandising lines were extra charming from Klaus, who seemed entirely oblivious to his growing celebrity status on base. The distrust and hostility had been quickly melting, and many have already been swayed toward the opposite. Klaus was beautiful and brilliant; anyone who spoke to him fell in love, and Klaus spoke to a _lot_ of people. He suspected that the only thing preventing Klaus receiving any propositions was the circulating (unfounded) rumor that Dave had already staked a claim.

Not that he hadn't thought about it. It was hard not to, in the quiet moments like these, watching Klaus smudge the line of eyeliner, inspecting it for a moment before smiling widely at himself in the mirror. Stars help him.

"Let's go," Klaus said, still pale, but looking more resolved now. Dave couldn't say no when Klaus turned those green, smoked out eyes on him.

As was becoming a habit, they sat with the pilots, although Jess and Poe were both out on a mission. They were friendly enough with some of the others, though. Snap, a friend of Jess, chattered easily with them, and Klaus responded with more than his usual verboseness, eager for the distraction, despite his insistence that he was fine.

"When are they putting you back on mission, Dave?" Snap asked curiously. "Your grounding must be over by now, right?"

This was true. Dave, however, had been dodging any potential missions. Logically, he knew that Klaus would be fine without him. The guy had plenty of friends to keep him occupied, wasn't in any danger, probably wouldn't even notice Dave was gone, and yet he could not bring himself to leave just yet. Instead of saying any of this, he just replied, "Some newbies were looking to run some low risk missions, get some field practice. Figured I'd stick closer to the ground for a little while."

Snap hummed, a knowing look in his eye. "You must be liking that, right, Klaus?"

Klaus wasn't listening.

Dave poked the other man, startling him out of his own head. "You okay?"

Klaus blinked at him, slow, and Dave pretended hai heart didn't speed up at having those eyes trained on him. "What are they doing?"

"Who?" Dave asked.

Subtly, Klaus nodded across the cafeteria.

Snap was quick to understand. "Oh, those two? They're infamous for PDA." Dave realised who they were talking about; two comms officers were practically making out over breakfast, with seemingly no awareness of anyone else in the room. He wrinkled his nose. 

"But what are they doing?" repeated Klaus, face scrunched up adorably.

"What do you mean?" Dave asked.

Klaus threw up his hands. "I mean, literally, _what are they doing?"_

Suddenly, Snap made an appalled noise. "Do you- do you not know what kissing is?"

At this, Klaus seemed to shrink in his seat. Dave knew that he should say something, reassure Klaus, explain it, but he was frozen in a regretful sort of horror. Dave had been - he felt disgusted in himself, now - he had been, despite his denial, thinking about Klaus like _that_ for awhile now. How many times had Dave absently thought about how easy it would be to kiss him, what his lips would feel like under his own? 

"That's why I'm asking," Klaus snipped, defensive.

Dave swallowed down the swell of guilt, and said, "It's a- an act of affection. You remember, we talked about couples, partners?"

Klaus nodded. "I think I get it," he said, watching the couple across the room with a speculative gaze.

"Someone should probably get this guy some sex education, huh?" Snap said with a shaky laugh.

"Okay, I know what _sex_ is," Klaus said. "Even stormtroopers know how babies are made."

Smirking, Snap said, "My bad." He took a swig of coffee.

“Whatever,” said Klaus. 

After breakfast, Klaus dragged him off to walk. “Show me somewhere I haven’t been before,” he had said, and Dave didn’t stand a chance. He led them across the base, the path a familiar one, although he hadn’t walked it since meeting Klaus. His heart lifted in excitement. It had been too long since he had seen his baby.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen my baby,” he said.

“Wait,” said Klaus, “Please tell me you don’t actually call it that.”

“What? What’s wrong with that?” said Dave.

Klaus rolled his eyes. “It’s a ship. Not a child.”

Dave suppressed a laugh. “Still my baby,” he told Klaus, running a hand over the cool metal. His old X-wing gleamed in the light of the hanger, despite Dave having neglected it for a few weeks now.

“You’re ridiculous,” Klaus said cheerfully. 

“You ever fly?” Dave asked.

Klaus shrugged. “I’ve done a lot of simulations.”

“Nope, doesn’t count,” said Dave. “You’ll see, when you fly someday.”

A disbelieving snort. “Sure, you dork. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

Regretfully, Dave said his goodbyes to the X-wing, and the pair picked their way to the edge of the hangar - it was a natural phenomenon, an overhanging of the cliff edge that protected the fleet from the skies - and levered up one of the walls to sit on a convenient little shelf of rock, rounded from use. It gave them a good view of the ships, the pilots and techs and droids rushing about. 

“You come here a lot?” Klaus asked.

Dave smiled at him. “Yeah. It’s a good place to think.”

Klaus hummed. “It’s nice.”

“What is it you’re thinking about?” Dave asked, curiosity overspilling.

He turned his face away for a moment. “Obvious, huh?”

“To me, maybe,” Dave said softly.

Quiet, for a moment. Then, “I had a dream. Only, I’m not sure it was really a dream.”

“Like a vision?” Dave asked.

“No,” Klaus said, “more like - communication. I had a conversation with someone… someone that I haven’t seen in a long time.”

Dave processed that. “Okay, sure” he said, “I don’t see why not.”

“You believe me?” Klaus asked, and the surprise in his voice stung a little.

“Of course.”

“I just- I know it sounds dumb, but I spoke to my brother. Five. He went missing, when we were kids. We always thought he was decommissioned,” Klaus explained, holding himself tightly. 

“But you spoke to him?” Dave prompted. Slowly, he reached over to rest his palm on the other’s knee, squeezing gently, and he could hear Klaus take a hitching breath in response. A hand covered his, fingers tangling together.

“He said that The Handler - she was the… well, I guess she was in charge of propaganda, teaching the _correct version_ of history, talking about what is _supposed_ to happen - apparently she had him put in carbonite instead. He always was her favourite.”

“Stars,” breathed Dave. “That’s- That’s _sick.”_

Klaus tilted closer into his orbit, on a slow collision course. “He was frozen there for years, only recently escaped, so he’s still- he’s just a kid. He’s all alone out there.” His voice was wet, thin, like he was trying not to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” Dave said. “We’ll find him. If he’s out there, we’ll find him, okay?”

“We can?” questioned Klaus, eyes dancing with hope and fear.

Dave pulled Klaus’ hand closer, holding it between both of his, like a prayer. “Of course, Klaus. Do you know where he is?”

He sucked on his lower lip for a beat, and Dave couldn’t help ( _-stop, stop, Dave, what are you doing_ -) but follow the movement with his eyes, like it was magnetic. “I don’t have a location,” Klaus admitted, “but I think I can find him. I can feel him, like a pull.” He touched his sternum briefly, like it was a physical thing.

“Then you can do it,” Dave said earnestly, because it was easy to believe when Klaus looked at him with that frantic certainty.

“I can do it,” Klaus said, a shy smile playing at his lips. “Dave… thank you.”

“For what?” Dave asked, voice embarrassingly breathless.

Klaus looked at him, and his eyes seemed greener than ever from this close. “For believing me.”

“Always,” said Dave. He felt dizzy, like the narrowing space between them was depriving him of air, like those green eyes were burning him with their intensity.

Helplessly, Klaus said his name, breathing it out, _Dave,_ and he could see each individual eyelash, the dark flakes of make-up, and the gap was shrinking, shrinking, and then, and then, and then-

He kissed him.

His lips hot and plush against his, and Dave felt more than heard as Klaus sucked in a breath, breathing against his mouth, before pressing back in, hesitance rapidly dissolving. He opened to him like a flower to the sun, and Dave pushed closer like second nature, like it was what he was born to do. The sweet smell of his shampoo was heady, blotting out everything else, and Dave longed to run his fingers through those dark curls, to touch every forbidden inch.

_Oh, stars._

What was he doing?

Dave wrenched himself back. He watched as Klaus blinked, confused, and then sank more towards fear. “Dave,” he said, “what-”

“We can’t do this,” he blurted.

Klaus gaped at him, mouth flushed (-stop looking, stop looking-) and brow low. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t- I can’t-” Dave stammered, thoughts still scattered, the memory of the kiss like a fire in his brain, burning away rational thought. 

“But you liked it,” Klaus said, the shake in his voice betraying his uncertainty. “And I liked it, and you said it was allowed-”

“No, I know, but it isn’t- It’s not fair on you. You’re so new to all of this, and I’m the first person outside of your siblings who cared, and I know that must be overwhelming, but that isn’t the same thing as, as wanting this,” Dave scrambled to explain.

“I _do_ want this,” Klaus said, “I know what I want, and it’s this!”

Shaking his head, Dave leaned back, trying to put a safe distance between them, just in case he found himself reeled back in. “Klaus, you only found out what kissing is _this morning.”_

Klaus looked stricken. “I know I’m new to a lot of this, okay? I know that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want,” said Klaus, “and I swear, I want this.”

Despite the bitter taste of putting that look on his face, Dave insisted, “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Not fair?” Klaus parroted. “You want to know what’s not fair? _This,_ Dave. This isn’t fair. I know what I feel, I’m not a kid!”

“I know, okay? I know, but Klaus, in a way, you are! You had to ask what kissing was, for stars sake!” Dave burst out.

His word rang in the hollow space between them, and Dave wished he could steal them out of the air, stuff them away somewhere Klaus would never find them, but it was too late. He had tried so hard not to hurt Klaus, and in doing so, he had hurt him worse.

“Klaus,” he said desperately, “Klaus, I didn’t mean-”

“No,” interrupted Klaus. The hurt on his face was quickly hardening, turning cold. “No. I see. That’s how you see me? Just some stupid kid?”

“ _No-”_

“All that, _I believe in you_ bullshit, was that just you humouring me?” 

“No! Of course not!”

Klaus laughed, low and sharp as shattered glass. “I really thought- but of course not.”

Dave reached out with a shaking hand. “Klaus, please-”

_“Don’t touch me!”_

His voice was so cutting that Dave leaped back, eyes wide.

“I’m so sorry,” Klaus said, voice slow and precise, “for taking up so much of your time.”

“Don’t do that,” Dave said, voice choked, “don’t do that, Klaus, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Don’t follow me,” said Klaus, and as much as it pained him, Dave let him go, watching as Klaus dropped back down to the hanger, striding across the room. Pilots and techs turned as he passed - it seemed the pair had unwittingly had an audience - but Klaus paid them no mind, walking decisively. Dave itched to run after him, but he couldn’t deny Klaus' request like that.

He would give him space.

It was only then that he realised Klaus wasn’t running away; he was running to something.

Klaus was throwing himself into the pilot seat before Dave had even really registered what was happening.

“Klaus- what-” Dave half shouted, stunned, stumbling onto numb legs, throwing himself into an unsteady run, but it was futile, because Klaus was already pulling the X-wing into a shaky lift off. “Klaus! What are you-”

And just like that, Klaus was flying away, shrinking down to a dot against the sky.

His final words echoed through Dave’s head: 

_Don’t follow me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the beginning of the end...


	17. XVI

"Shut up, Ben."

"I didn't say anything!" Ben protested hotly.

Klaus grit out, "I can hear you thinking it."

"No, you can't," said Ben, voice loud in the tiny cabin of the X-wing.

"Can, too," Klaus said petulantly.

Ben challenged, "What am I thinking, then?"

Klaus gripped the controls tighter, knuckles white, and didn't look away from the view of the stars. "You're thinking that I'm stupid, and reckless, and that I should go back."

The following silence was confirmation enough. Klaus slumped in his seat.

"I don't think you're stupid, Klaus," he eventually said. "I think you're _doing_ something stupid. There's a difference."

He laughed at that. "Well that makes it better."

"Just turn back," the ghost insisted.

"Do you even want to find Five?" Klaus fired back.

A sharp intake of air. "That's not fair," said Ben.

Klaus methodically loosened each finger from his tight grip, let out a slow breath, and said, "Sorry. I didn't mean that."

"I know," said Ben, voice a little too understanding. It was like after Five disappeared, arguing with each other because they didn't know how else to process it. It was how their family had always been. When you mould people into fighters, then the only thing they know how to do is fight. Klaus had hoped that his time away from that place would have changed him, hoped that he wouldn’t revert back to that way of life, but it seemed too ingrained, and he had turned back to this creature of conflict at the first sign of trouble.

"I'll go back," Klaus said. "After I find Five."

"And you know where you're going?" Ben questioned.

He twisted in the pilot seat to give him a scathing look. "Why would you even ask me that?"

Ben looked at him flatly.

"Okay, okay, look," Klaus said, "I know where we're going. Don't you feel it? Like a- a pull?"

"Klaus, are you really asking the dead guy if I can feel anything?" 

"I don't know how it works!" Klaus squawked.

He huffed. Klaus knew what he was thinking: neither of them knew how this stuff worked. They were going in blind, risking everything on an instinct that might not even be real, could just be a figment of his lonely imagination. Klaus couldn't accept that. He wouldn't. Five was out there, and he knew it.

Eventually, their path came to an end.

"What planet even is this?" Ben asked, frowning down at the little clump of rock that they were orbiting, mostly covered in water, with only a small land mass. There were no obvious signs of habitation. 

Klaus said, "I don't know, it's not like it's signposted!" He ran a hand down his face. Truthfully, it didn't look like the place from his dreams, less dry desert and more water and mountainous terrain. But maybe the aerial view was deceiving. The pull in his chest seemed certain that this was the place, tugging him down towards it.

"Do you even know how to land this thing?"

"Sure," Klaus said flippantly, "we did plenty of simulations."

"For a TIE fighter! That's totally different!" argued Ben.

Klaus flipped a few switches with more confidence than he felt. "I learn best under pressure," he said glibly, before pulling the ship into a dive.

He landed fine.

"You did _not_ land fine," Ben contradicted, breathless despite not needing air.

"But did we die?"

"If I wasn't already dead-"

"But _did we die?"_

Klaus took the ensuing silence as victory.

The door mechanism groaned as Klaus exited the ship. It looked pretty beat up, panels scraped from the rocky landing, the wheel axis buckling slightly under its own weight. Klaus bit his lip. The petty thrill of revenge warred with his fear of repercussions. He hoped he hadn't damaged anything too serious - if nothing else, he needed to be able to fly back home.

( _Home._ When did that place become home?)

Ben whistled. "Dave is going to cry when he sees this."

Panic stabbed his guts, and Klaus slapped his hands over his cheeks. "Oh, stars. He's going to be so mad."

"To be honest, I think he will be too grateful to have you back to care," Ben said.

Klaus looked across the mountains to give himself an excuse not to meet his brother's gaze. "Optimistic." 

The sloped ground crunched and crumbled onto his feet, and he skidded slightly before finding his balance. He had landed in a shallow valley. From here, the twin suns were low in the sky, cresting over the ridge to the West and painting the sky crimson and peach. It was beautiful. 

Ben said, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"You know what feeling I have?" said Klaus, squinting into the light. "I feel like he's close."

Following that strange, leading tug of his gut, he set off North along the valley floor, Ben following like a shadow. With each step, Klaus could feel the sense inside him swelling, waxing. The air was clean and fresh in his nose, cooler than the rebellion base, and it refreshed him. Mentally, he sent out a thought to Five: _we're coming._

Something inside him settled. This was the place.

Cupping his hand to his mouth, he called out, "Five?"

His voice echoed along the slopes.

"Five! Are you here?" he shouted, voice cracking. He could feel Ben's eyes on the back of his neck, but didn't turn to see the disappointment that he would inevitably find. "Five!"

"Klaus!" came a shrill yell.

But it wasn't Five.

Klaus whirled in place, because he knew Ben's voice well, well enough to know what fear sounded like. His hand itches for a weapon that he didn't have.

A blast hit the earth at his feet.

He let out a yelp, hopping backwards and almost tripping over his own feet.

_“Freeze!”_

The command had the crackly, robotic quality that came through the stormtrooper helmet. It was a sound that Klaus was intimately familiar with, and one that he had hoped to never hear again.

From behind dark crevices in the valley walls, stormtroopers spilled out like ants, shining stark white against the red dirt, the low suns making them too bright to look directly at. Each of them carried a blaster in hand, all pointed directly down at Klaus. “Surrender yourself!” one stormtrooper - indistinguishable from the rest - demanded. 

Klaus had no weapon. No back up. No way out.

His heart was thrumming so hard that he thought he might be sick, making him dizzy and lightheaded. 

“Is- Is Five really alive?” he asked, voice breaking. “Or was that- was it all-?”

The stormtrooper who had spoken stepped towards him, all sharp, violent motion. “Surrender, or we will shoot!”

_“Is Five alive?”_ Klaus cried out.

Ben said from behind him, half pleading, “ _Klaus.”_

“Hands on your head, now!”

A grief-tinged rage crashed over Klaus, unlike anything he had ever known, like pure fire in his chest, and with it he yanked out at the blaster pointed at him, and tugged. It flew from the stormtroopers hand, arcing gracefully towards his own, and he reached out to pull it from the air-

And he froze.

That isn’t a metaphor, a turn of phrase; Klaus literally stopped dead, unable to move an inch, unable to move a muscle, except for his eyes which rolled wildy, pupils blown wide. His tongue was a dead thing in his mouth, and he made a formless sound of terror.

From the shadows of deepening darkness, a tall figure slid out, faceless, but instantly recognisable, striking fear into Klaus’ bones. Kylo Ren.

“Too easy,” uttered Ren.

Furiously, Klaus pushed this one thought towards him: _Where is Five?_

Kylo Ren stepped closer. Raised a hand, palm out. “Sleep,” he said.

Klaus slumped to the ground.


	18. XVII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple of notes: 
> 
> -to anyone who doesn't know who kylo ren is, you don't need to! he's not going to be a recurring character. all you need to know is, he's first order, and he has the force - hence being able to lure in Klaus
> 
> -also, a few people have asked about the chapter count. at this point it's a guesstimate, so it's likely to change because i never plan my chapters lmao
> 
> thanks to all the people who have kept commenting, you're all beautiful!!

Dave was freaking out.

He had a reputation for being cool headed in bad situations - is what made him a good pilot - and despite his habit of getting into dangerous circumstances, he did actually like to think things through rather than run head first in. (Leia once said that this was even worse; he considered the risk, and did it anyway. However, Dave had pointed out, it usually worked out for him in the end.)

Now, though? Gone was any rational decision making. With every moment wasted, Klaus was further across the galaxy. He didn't have time for thinking, just time to act, to move.

"Jess," he said, "I'm commandeering your ship."

Jess looked at him blankly. "What?"

He levered himself up and into the pilot seat with practiced ease. "I have to go after Klaus," he said, flipping the switch to close the hatch.

"What the fuck, Katz?" Jess cried out, taking a hasty step back when he started the engine. 

He keyed his login into the system. As a commander, he had the clearance to track all the X-wings in his squadron, including his own ship, which pinged up on the screen. Dave tagged it, and lifted up to follow.

“Fuck,” he hissed out. He couldn’t believe it. Everything had gone so bad, so quickly, and if Klaus got lost, got hurt out there because of Dave and his stupid words, he didn’t know what he would do.

Flipping on the comms unit, he attempted to connect to his - Klaus’ - X-wing, but it seemed that Klaus hadn’t turned his comms on. Dave wondered whether he even knew how to use it. He doubted TIE fighters included anything that could give them so much information on the outside world. Stars, had he even turned on the mapping system, or was he just flying blind? 

The static of an incoming connection jolted him from his thoughts. 

“Dave Katz, what the hell are you doing?”

Dave swallowed. “Uh- Leia, hi!”

“Don’t _Leia, hi_ me. Did you just steal an X-wing?” Leia’s voice crackled through the comms unit.

“Well, in my defence,” said Dave, “Klaus did it first.”

“Oh, great, there’s two of you now,” said Leia dryly. “Here’s what happens next. You get your ass back to base, and then we try to get in contact with Klaus, and we _do not send out a one man rescue mission with no intel.”_

Unfortunately, Dave had already considered that option, but it all came back to the same thing: Klaus could be in danger _now._ He couldn’t wait for bureaucracy, or even back up. “Leia,” he said, “I think we’re breaking up. I just went into an astro-cloud, I’m losing your sig-” he cut the connection “-nal.”

Dave tried not to think about how much trouble he would be in when he got back. 

Eventually, Dave was landing on the same planet that Klaus had. Plant might be an overstatement. It was a tiny rock, insignificant in a size as well as function, uninhabited. Why the hell would Klaus have come here?

Throwing himself out of Jess' X wing, he could immediately see that his own ship had gotten beat up - a bad landing, it looked like. Dave stored away the devastation of seeing his baby all scratched up, and instead began searching. Klaus wasn't in sight, but he could see the trail of footsteps leaking down the canyon.

With a blaster on one hip, and a canteen of water on the other, he set out.

It was getting dark.

One of the planet's two suns had already dipped below the skyline, and the other was wavering low in the sky. Dave prayed that he would find Klaus before it got too dark to follow the trail.

And then the trail came to an end. 

From what Dave could make out, Klaus had stopped still, and then… other footsteps, walking with him, all different sizes but the same print, the same boot, leading him to behind a large outcrop or rock. Then, flattened plants and displaced earth. A ship.

He knew what it meant. He wished that he was wrong, that he had misread, but he knew that he was right. They had taken him. The First Order.

Klaus could be anywhere by now, and Dave had no way of finding him. Klaus could already be dead, for all he knew, executed in front of the other stormtroopers, in front of his siblings, made an example of-

Something pressed sharply against the small of his back. "Move, and I shoot," said a voice from behind him.

Dave froze.

Stupid. _Stupid_. He had been so caught up in his panic that he had let his guard down. His hand was too far from his blaster, and he had no idea how many people had their blasters trained on him. He said, voice calmer than he felt, “Is this how you grabbed Klaus, too?”

“Who?” responded the voice, and then, “I’m the one asking questions here. Why are you here?”

“Looking for a friend,” Dave said. “Found you instead.”

A moment stretched out, counted by the rapid thump of his heart.

“A friend?” they said, voice sounding less certain now.

It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and it put Dave off balance, made him nervous. “Yeah. The same one you kidnapped, I’m guessing.”

“I haven’t kidnapped-” the voice muttered. “So you’re not with The First Order?”

Dave barked a laugh of surprise. “Do I look First Order to you?”

He heard the person behind him shift their weight, gravel crunching underfoot, and tamped down on the itch to turn. “Are you looking for Four?”

He choked.

The blaster pressed harder against his back. “KL-0040. _Four._ Are you after him?”

“Who the hell are you?” Dave questioned.

The point of pressure against his back disappeared, and two footsteps echoed in the valley. “Turn around,” the voice commanded.

Slowly, Dave turned.

And then looked down.

“ _What the fuck.”_

The kid in front of him rolled his eyes. “Less theatrics, more talking. How do you know Four?”

Dave looked at him with naked astonishment, eyes round, eyebrows raised high. Then, with realisation. “Oh, shit, are you Five?”

“The name, or the age?” he asked, face pinched.

“You’re his brother,” said Dave.

“Who’s?”

“Klaus.”

The teen threw up his free hand in frustration. “Okay, you better start making sense, or I swear I _will_ shoot you.”

“Okay, okay,” Dave said. “So, KL-04… wait, hold on. KL-0040. He’s a friend, but he took off, I guess to find you, except I think the Order got there first.”

With an assessing gaze, Five lowered the pistol to his side, though it was still angled toward him, and after a beat he stretched out a hand. “Alright. Name’s Five.”

“I’m Dave,” he replied, shaking Five’s hand. “And I’m going to save your brother.”

Five smiled, teeth glinting in the low light. “I suppose I could use some back-up.”


	19. XVIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls note the updates warnings. there's some violence ahead, although nothing much worse than canon i don't think

When Klaus woke up, he was already strapped down. 

He tested the binds, more out of reflex than any real hope, but none of them gave, and he sagged back down into his seat. The movement did not go unnoticed.

"He's awake," says someone from behind, out of sight when he tried to twist around. 

A sigh. "Let's get started."

Then the two of them stepped into his view.

In training as a cadet, they start torture resistance classes in your eighth year. It's nothing too bad at first, things like sensory deprivation, starvation, not being allowed to sleep for days on end. It gets a little worse every year. You graduate to waterboarding, to burning. They never do anything that would permanently disable you, can't reduce your efficiency as a soldier, but they don't mind leaving scars. In your seventeenth year, you have to go through personalised torture before you're qualified to be sent out on missions. That's the worst one. They look at your records and work out your weakness, and then they use that against you. That time, it's not performed by fellow infantry stormtroopers. You're tortured by professionals.

The professionals were called HA-7310 and CH-4684.

No one knew how they had made their way from standard squadrons to this role of dubious honour, but there were plenty of stories. Some say they killed the rest of their own squad. Others say they were picked out by Kylo Ren himself for their callous and brutal nature. All agree that they had earned it somehow. They were the proverbial boogeyman, after all, the worst case scenario, the memories that haunted them all.

So when the pair stepped in front of him, their pink and blue helmets the only colour in the room, Klaus knew instantly that he was fucked.

"It's going to be okay, Klaus," Ben said. It was a lie, of course, and Ben knew it.

With a casualness that belied the situation, CH-4684 said, “Here’s the deal. We want to know everything you know about The Resistance. We want to know where they are, what they’re planning, what their defences are like. And we want to know now.” From the sterile tray of tools, she picked up a knife - modestly sized, but sharp - and teased it under the edge of his shirt. He held his breath. “Or, we cut the truth out of you.”

Klaus shook in his restraints. He had a fraction of the information they wanted, and none that he was willing to give. “I don’t know anything,” he said, hating how his voice sounded like an apology, like begging. “I was a prisoner, they didn’t tell me anything!”

“Alright,” said HA-7310. “The hard way it is.”

The hard way was pain. The hard way was cuts and burns and waterboarding. The hard way was having his fingernails ripped out one by one (and there goes the chance of painting his nails with Jess, he thought to himself hysterically). Ben tried to keep talking, keep Klaus calm, but eventually his words ran out in the face of each new horror. Klaus screamed. He screamed. He didn't talk. He screamed some more. 

His voice broke, so he screamed silently instead.

"I don't know," one of them said to the other. "Maybe this guy really doesn't know anything."

"That's what I _told_ you," Klaus whined, voice cracking, eyes rolling deliriously.

Pink flashed in his eyes just before he was smacked across the mouth, blood welling on his lip. "You know better than to talk back to your superior like that, KL-0040."

Klaus wanted to say, _that is not my name._ He swallowed the words down. They tasted like copper. 

“Okay, here’s what we do next,” she continued, running her fingers over the various torture instruments, some already stained red. With a sick reverence, she picked up one of the larger blades. The words _bone saw_ rose up in his head, unbidden. He averted his eyes. “You have one last chance to tell us, and if you don’t? Then we cut off your leg.”

He sucked in a breath, eyes snapping back to the saw in her hand. It’s teeth glinted, and he could imagine just how sharp each point was. “Please,” Klaus gasped. “I don’t- I don’t know anything. _Please.”_

With a steady hand, she brought the blade to rest on his thigh. Just the weight of it alone tore through the material of his pants leg. She roughly pushed his other knee to move it out of range, leaving his legs spread out, and he felt a strange sense of humiliation at it, at his own passiveness, the vulnerability of the position. She held the leg tightly, preventing him from twitching away. “Last chance.”

“Please,” Klaus sobbed.

CH-4684 sighed. “Okay.” 

The room seemed to hold its breath, anticipation thick, smothering. Even HA-7310 seemed nervous, his hands flexing by his sides, leaning forward as if ready to pull his partner away, or maybe to take the saw and do it himself. The only sound Klaus’ heartbeat, fast and hard, and he distantly thought it would only make him bleed out faster, although bleeding out was inevitable at this point. 

He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to die.

The saw was shoved forward.

Klaus gave a shout of pain and terror, his whole body spasming in an attempt to move away, but the restraints just bit into his skin. It was only one stroke, but already blood was welling up to meet it, the cut long and deep. “Please, I don’t, please, please, I don’t know anything, I swear, I don’t,” Klaus babbled, cutting off when he choked on his own tongue, gasping wetly.

“You know we can’t…” HA-7310 grumbled quietly.

“I know the rules,” the woman said sharply, her pink helmet rising up. With a disappointed air, she wrenched the saw out of the wound - blood spilled out faster - and threw it to the ground. It left a long smear of blood as it skidded across the floor. She looked at him for a long moment, unreadable, and Klaus stared back, wide eyed, barely breathing. “Okay, I guess you were telling the truth.”

“You’re not-” Klaus licked his lips, eyes flitting between the two torturers. “You’re not going to take my leg?”

She put her hands on her lips. “We can’t do anything to impede your performance,” she said, not without a note of bitterness.

“Performance?” he echoed, voice small and confused.

HA-7310 snorted from where he was slouched against the wall. “You think the brass were going to let a perfectly good soldier go to waste?”

“Oh,” said Klaus. “I thought-”

“You thought they wouldn’t trust you not to turn traitor?” supplied CH-4684. “Don’t really matter if they wipe you first.”

“Wha- wipe me? No,” said Klaus, shock turning to panic. “No, you can’t-”

The woman smacked him over the head. “Shut up,” she said, before angling the chair and rolling him backward.

Klaus twisted frantically, trying to see where they were going. “You don’t need to do this,” he bleated. He heard the seat lock down, and then something big and mechanical was lowering over his head.

Just before his eyes were obscured, he saw CH-4684 step in and brush a finger down his cheek in a twisted kind of tenderness. “Shame,” she remarked. “The blank ones are never quite as scared.”

“Fuck,” said Ben, sounding close, but Klaus couldn’t see him. “Klaus, I’m right here, okay? I’m staying with you. I won’t leave you, I promise.”

A sob tore out of his throat. “Please,” he said, though he wasn’t sure who he was saying it to.

He could hear retreating footsteps as HA-7310 and CH-4684 left the room; their job was done. Then, the low hum of electricity.

Pain. 

_Pain._

Then, after a long time-

Nothing.

He opened his eyes.

The thing in front of his face moved upward, and he blinked against the light of the room, squinting to see his surroundings. Everything was stark white, except for what looked like blood, splattered and pooling in the centre. The room was almost empty. Almost.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Are you alright? Klaus?”

He frowned lightly. 

“Who is Klaus?” asked KL-0040.


	20. XIX

They left the X-wing behind.

It felt like a bad move, but Dave couldn't deny the logic of it. It was too instantly recognisable, and the mission needed stealth, which was better achieved by using Five's old junker, a sturdy cargo ship. 

Five invited him inside with a wary look. If the circumstances were any different, Dave doesn't doubt that Five would not be allowing a stranger on board, but it seemed he was willing to overlook his usual rules if his siblings were involved. Dave could relate; rules seemed insignificant in the face of Klaus' safety. The place had a distinct, lived in feel, with books scattered carelessly around the place. It was a pleasant surprise to Dave, who had expected to see the same neurotic cleaning tendencies that Klaus had inherited. He wondered whether, if given the chance, Klaus might become defiantly messy too.

"Dave, meet Delores. Dolores, Dave," introduced Five distractedly.

The protocol droid - and who the hell named a protocol droid _Delores -_ nodded, silver surface glinting. "Greetings, Dave."

Unsettled, but trying not to show it, Dave said, "Hi."

Pouring a hot cup of caf, Five said, "What's the plan?" Then, as if unaccustomed to company, he rooted around for a second cup, filling it and passing it over to Dave with a stiff smile.

"Right, the plan," said Dave, scratching at his jaw. "Um…"

"You don't have a plan," Five said with flat realisation.

Dave took a nervous sip of caf. "In my defense," he said, "I wasn't expecting to storm a First Order base today."

"You're lucky you ran into me" muttered Five. "We won't be _storming_ it. We will be performing a stealth extraction."

"Sure," agreed Dave. "I can do stealth."

Five look unconvinced. "Fine. Here's the plan."

Planning, in Dave's opinion, had taken too long. Who knew what was happening to Klaus whilst they bickered over the details? He chewed at his nails, watching Five begin their slow descent toward the First Order base. In broad daylight. (Dave did not have much faith in this plan.) 

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Dave questioned anxiously.

Five sighed, typing furiously into the ship's computer log. "I already told you, I've got this. I know the system, I know how to get access, I know how to forge a key, and Delores knows how to transmit on the right frequency."

"Sorry, I know," said Dave. He resumed biting his nails. Computers weren't his strong suit, but he understood what Five was doing well enough to see how it could work. There were just too many potential risks. If anyone looked too hard at the ship credentials Five had fabricated, they would see that this wasn't a scheduled delivery, and then they would be shot out of the sky. 

The transmitter system crackled to life. "Freighter, please confirm credentials," said some bored First Order worker.

Five gave Delores a meaningful nod, and she sent the fake key. 

Tense silence as they waited for confirmation, or for accusation. Then, "Proceed."

Dave let out a small breath. "Good job, kid."

"Tell me that when we've got Four out of there," said Five, pulling the ship down to a service dock at the back of the base, quiet enough that they might be able to sneak around unnoticed.

"I will," said Dave, determined.

As the ship began landing, Five nonchalantly asked, "So Four goes by Klaus, now?"

"Yup," Dave said, voice tinged with pride for Klaus. "Wanted a real name. Sixes, too. He goes by Ben now."

Five stilled. "Sixes… did he escape with Four? With Klaus?"

Dave felt panic twist at his lungs, mind screeching to a halt. Of course Five wouldn't know what had happened to Ben. How stupid of Dave, throwing that name around like it wasn't Five's brother, like he wasn't dead. Did he tell the kid now? Or lie to him, let him believe in the fantasy of having his whole family safe?

He had taken too long, and Five was too smart for his own good.

"Oh. I see," Five said, stilted.

"He did escape, though," Dave rushed to add. "Klaus can- see him. He can still talk to him. I know that sounds weird, but Klaus has-"

"The Force?" interjected Five. "I know."

"You know?"

"Sure. The Handler made sure to gloat about it before she froze me," said Five. "Now can we focus on the mission?"

Feeling strangely chastised by the kid, Dave said, "Sure. Let's go."

The first step of the plan went off without a hitch. 

A single stormtrooper came over to inspect the ship, just as Five had predicted, not expecting any trouble. It was easy to drag them aboard silently, and Five stunned them. Dave felt shady, stripping an unconscious person of their armour, but he needed the anonymity to pull this plan off. The teen kept look out whilst Dave got into the white exoskeleton. 

Dave hesitated to put the helmet on. "Are we ready?"

Five nodded. "You know where to go."

With his breath shaking with anticipation, Dave fitted the helmet over his head, and punched the button for the doors. 

The kid stepped out.

"Woah, I thought you were staying with the ship!" Dave hissed, catching him by the shoulder, only for his hand to be thrown off.

"That was your assumption," Five said. "This was always the plan. I'm the distraction."

"What? No, no, I can't let you do that."

"Let me?" parroted five, eyebrows shooting up. "I don't think so. Listen, I know the vent system, I know where the explosives are stored, and I know where The Handler sleeps. I'm going."

Dave chewed on his lip. The kid seemed determined, but he didn’t like the idea of putting a child at risk, even one that was trained for war. “I don’t like this.”

“Just get Klaus out,” said Five. “He’s the one you should be worrying about.” Then, without a goodbye, he deftly slipped into the shadows. Squinting, Dave could just about see his small form pop a vent open, and then he was gone.

He let out a slow breath, squaring his shoulders, before marching off the ship and across the hanger. The ‘troopers didn’t give him a second glance. It was disturbing how easily Dave became anonymous, another body to toss into the war, nameless and faceless. It seemed impossible that no one could sense his otherness. 

Five’s instructions were held tightly in his mind’s eye. A left. Another. Then a right. Down to the end. Two rights. He tried not to double guess, although the further he got, the greater his doubt. One wrong turn and he would be hopelessly lost, a rat in a huge, hostile maze. 

Eventually, he found the interrogation wing. 

The doors here were heavy, as if to prevent escape, although Five had informed him that the chip in the armour would open doors automatically. The trick was finding the right door. 

As it turned out, this was easy, as it was the only one with light spilling out from the sliver of glass. A step forward, and maybe Dave would see Klaus through the window. His heart stammered.

A squad of four stormtroopers turned the corner. Their blasters raised in unison, all aimed at Dave.

“Shit,” Dave uttered, hand twitching towards his blaster, but he knew that he would be dead before he could draw it. Instead, he changed tactics. “Okay, let’s not do anything rash.”

“Agreed,” said one of the stormtroopers. “Walk away, and we can pretend we never saw you. Deal?”

Dave blinked. _Walk away?_ What kind of a deal is that? “I- What?” he blurted.

One of the smaller ‘troopers shifted, although whether it was impatience or nerves was unclear. “We didn’t see you, you didn’t see us. Walk away.”

For one inexplicable moment, Dave considered doing it. Walking away, pretending none of this had happened. Then he remembered why he was here, who he was here for, and his resolve strengthened. “How about _you_ walk away, and we pretend I was never here,” he bartered.

This time, it was them that seemed stumped. “Are you- Are you not supposed to be here?” the smallest one tentatively questioned.

“Wait,” said Dave, “are _you_ not supposed to be here?”

A beat.

“Okay, who are you?” the first stormtrooper eventually demanded.

“Who are _you?”_ Dave retorted intelligently.

The ‘trooper puffed up. “I asked first.”

“Stop,” another said, voice low. “Look, we just need to get past you into that room, okay? And we won’t tell anyone about whatever you’re doing.”

Dave tensed. “What do you want with him?”

“None of your business,” they snapped.

“Well I also need to get into that room, so I think that might be a problem,” said Dave. The longer they argued, the more panicked he felt. For all he knew, Klaus was hurt and scared and _alone_ just metres away.

The smallest one took a step forward. “We want to help Four. Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“Wha- Yes, yes, I’m trying to get him out of here. Are we all trying to do the same thing, here? Are you-” Dave stopped, sucking in a sharp breath. “Are you his siblings?”

The group froze. Then the tallest said, voice quieter than before, “We’re his squad.”

“He told me about you,” said Dave.

“Well this was a waste of time,” said one of the taller ‘troopers, acerbic. Two, if Klaus’ description was accurate. “Can we go get Four now?”

Instead of replying, Dave whirled around and stalked across to the door, unwilling to wait another second. He could deal with the squad later; Klaus came first. The ‘troopers followed tightly behind, booted footsteps surprisingly light, as he pulled his blaster out ready, and flung the door open. 

The first thing he noticed was the blood. 

There was a lot of it, drips and pools, one large smear that ended in a dripping saw. The smell hit him like a physical thing, sharp and coppery, stinging his nose, and he had to swallow down his rising nausea. He pushed it all down, and looked down the far side of the room.

A chair sat under some kind of machine, huge, hanging over the room menacingly. 

The chair was empty except for a streak of blood.

Klaus wasn’t here.


	21. XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence & minor character death

His head hurt.

The lights were too bright and the sounds too loud. The man was still standing in front of him, talking with an urgency that made his head throb, ducking down to try to make eye contact. He forced himself to tune into what the man was saying. 

"-need to go, now. I'll explain later, okay, Kl- Okay, Four? So stand up, let's move."

Four. KL-0040.

"Am I Four?" he croaked.

The man quieted for a moment. "Yeah," he said. "You're Four. I'm Sixes."

"Oh," said Four. His hand tentatively touched his forehead, half expecting to find a wound. "My head hurts."

Grimacing, the man - Sixes - said, "I know. We can fix that later. We need to go, okay? We aren't safe here."

A bolt of anxiety shot through the haze. "Not safe?" Four echoed, standing onto shaky legs. One of his thighs burned and ached, and when he looked down he found himself bloody and wounded. He made a noise.

"I know," the man said. "Once we're safe, we will patch you up. Just follow me."

Obediently, Four began to shuffle toward the door. He wasn't really sure what was happening, who he was, where he was going, but he knew that he was supposed to listen to orders.

The door opened sharply. 

Two people marched in, dressed all in white, and the sight was familiar to Four, although he couldn't quite think why. One stepped forward, and said, "KL-0040. Follow us."

"Shit," said Sixes.

Four shook his head, muddled and foggy. Despite not knowing who Sixes was, he somehow felt familiar, safe, unlike the two strangers. “Wait,” he said, “I don’t-”

“I said, follow us,” the stormtrooper repeated. “That’s an order.”

Sixes looked at him with thinly veiled panic. “I’m sorry, I can’t do anything,” he said desperately.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad would happen if he followed them, even when his brain demanded that he obey the command. He felt at war with himself. His temples throbbed, and he pressed his palms against them tightly, as if holding his head together. Pitiful, he whined, “Can you just leave me alone?”

With his eyes scrunched shut, he couldn’t see the reaction, just heard shuffled footsteps, and then Sixes voice saying, “What the hell?”

When he opened his eyes, the stormtroopers were gone. 

“Oh,” said Four. “That’s good.”

“I- yeah,” said Sixes. “Okay, this is good. We should go now, before anyone else looks for you.”

Four absently agreed, swaying slightly as he made his way out to the hallway, which was thankfully empty.

"We need to find a ship to steal," said Sixes. "I'll show you the way."

Walking was hard. Bright pain lanced up his bad leg with each step, making him unsteady, lumbering unevenly as he favoured his right. Several times, he had to duck and hide from people, Sixes quick to instruct him. Four suspected that Sixes knew the place they were in. He guided them with a certainty that suggested familiarity, but a tenseness that said it was not home to him.

A door.

Four stopped. The sight had panged in his chest, some kind of deep, terrible, half forgotten thing that froze him in his tracks. He suddenly felt very small.

"Kl- Four? Let's go, we’re almost there," Sixes said nervously.

The door seemed to stare back at him, malice seeping from under the door jam. It made his gut twist. He had been here before, he knew it, even if he couldn't recall the details, the memories that instilled such a violent terror, alongside a childlike need to look beyond it.

Sixes said, "Don't," and Four thought that Sixes had somehow read his mind, but looking down he realised he already had one bloodied hand on the door, ready to push it open. His body was not his. A memory was possessing him, one that he couldn’t grasp, like something from a dream, a nightmare that was not his own.

His hand inched the door ajar.

Inside the room was a heavy desk, littered with unidentifiable trinkets and important looking documents. The dim lights made him squint slightly, a contrast from the stark white of the hallway, and something about the darkness made Four shiver.

And behind the desk sat a man.

The man was not particularly tall, nor particularly heavyset. In fact, he looked slim, more academic than athletic, and was old enough that his hair was steely gray. He wore the sharp lines of the officers uniform. Nothing about him was overtly threatening, so Four wasn't sure why the sight caused dread to pool in his gut.

"So the prodigal son returns," the man said without looking up from where he was writing. His voice was crisp and cold. "I assume you've completed your reconditioning and are ready to commit yourself to the cause?"

Sixes gave Four an urgent look. "Say yes," he said.

"Yes," Four said woodenly.

"Then report to the barracks and join your squad," the man directed him absently.

"Go," Sixes said desperately.

Four felt fractured. He was caught between what he should do, and what he needed to do. Something in his brain screamed at him to **_obey, obey, obey_** _,_ and another part begged him to run, to follow Sixes and get as far from this place he could. The rest of him demanded he ask, "Who am I?"

For the first time, the man behind the desk looked up. His gaze was assessing. "It seems the idiots in reconditioning have not done a successful job. Then again, you were always a little too thick skulled for it."

Four deduced that the armoured men from earlier were supposed to take him to _reconditioning_ , and he was suddenly, intensely grateful to Sixes, because just the word made his skin crawl. "I- I know you. Don't I?"

"I have given you every opportunity, KL-0040, and yet you continue to be my greatest disappointment," he replied flatly. "If you cannot be loyal to the cause, I will have no choice but to decommission you."

"Fuck," uttered Sixes.

A building pressure in his head had Four reaching up to squeeze his temples, attempting to hold himself together, preventing himself from breaking irreparably. "What have you done to me? _What have you done to me?_ "

"What I had to," the man said. 

"Run, Four," urged Sixes. "Just go, get out of here."

The man stood, straightening the grey material of his suit with methodical ease, brushing out invisible creases. "Such a waste of potential," he mused. He opened a drawer in the desk, and calmly pulled out a blaster, levelling it at Four with a steady hand. "I assure you, it brings me no pleasure to have to do this."

He pulled the trigger.

Four cried out, reaching up his hands as if to block the shot, palms outward.

It happened too fast for him to really understand.

The bright flare from the muzzle of the blaster; the reflexive way that Four pushed outward with his mind; the bolt from the blaster hitting an invisible wall and rebounding. Rebounding straight back at the shooter.

The man crumpled to the ground.

Dead.


	22. XXI

Dave made a devastated noise.

All he could see was blood, and sharp knives, and strange equipment, and he knew in his bones that whatever had happened here was terrible. He was too late. Where was Klaus now? Was he even still alive? 

One of the stormtroopers swore. "They must have already wiped him."

"Wiped him?" Dave echoed.

"It's a last resort. It- it takes away memories. Makes a blank slate for them to recondition."

"Fuck," Dave said.

The smallest trooper - Seven? - abruptly pulled off her helmet, sucking in a panicked gasp. "No," she moaned. "We're too late. We're too- _Shit."_

One of her siblings was quick to comfort her, pulling her into a hug that looked uncomfortable with the stormtrooper armour between them. "He's still alive," they said. 

Seven nodded, the motion frantic. "They would have taken him to reconditioning after they wiped him," she said, voice trembling but certain. She added to Dave, "I got wiped once, back in cadets. We can still get him back."

"He can remember? It's not permanent?" Hope twisted in his chest, painful, fearful.

"It's supposed to be permanent," another spoke up. "But Seven remembered some of it. But none of that will matter if we don't find him."

"Then show me where he is," urged Dave.

The tallest of them (One, he thinks) says, "It's not that simple. The reconditioning wing is always busy, and if someone asks why we're there-"

_Bang._

An explosion. It's distant enough that they couldn't feel the heat of it, but close enough that the ground seemed to tremor. Dave grinned. "That's the distraction."

"What the fuck," said One.

"Five came with me," Dave explained. "Come on, let's go whilst everyone's freaking out."

"I'm also freaking out! Five? As in-"

"Yes, your brother," said Dave, attempting to sound more patient than he felt. "I'm sorry, but we don't have time for this. We need to find Klaus."

Seven stepped forward, her mouth set, eyes determined. The transformation from scared to soldier was so abrupt and total that Dave had to do a double take. "This way," she said, pulling her helmet on and leading them back out.

The base was heaving with people, shiny white armour catching the light as stormtroopers scuttled to and fro, blasters clutched in their hands, heads swivelling around nervously. No one gave them a second look, too busy looking for an intruder to see him among them. 

The reconditioning wing was not what Dave had envisioned. 

He had been picturing something similar to the interrogation rooms (meaning glorified torture chambers). This was somehow… worse. Instead of seperate rooms, it was one long space, with a row of chairs, mechanical restraints on the arms and ankles, and the seats populated with soldiers. Each of them had an IV in their arm - he didn’t even want to imagine what drugs they were pumping them with - and blindfolds over their eyes. Over the loudspeakers, a voice spoke with dizzying passion, and Dave had to resist the urge to press his hands over his ears. The sound was so intense that it rattled his skull. He tried not to listen, but caught snatches of it anyway ( _greater good, order, safety, strength, sacrifice, structure-)._ Fortunately, there were no guards. It seemed that the distraction had been successful.

Dave ran. He desperately searched each face for a hint of familiarity, hurtling himself down the row, calling out, “Klaus?”

His voice was lost under the sound from the speakers. “Klaus?” he tried again, louder.

He hit the end of the row. 

Had he missed him? He must have. Klaus must be there somewhere. He had to be.

Dave doubled back, checking each face again. " _Klaus_? Where are you?"

A hand caught his arm. "He's not here," Two said roughly.

"Then where is he?" Dave snapped.

Seven shifted, inscrutable behind her mask, and tentatively said, "If he's finished reconditioning, he would be reporting to our C.O." Dave could barely hear her over the speakers.

"Let's go," commanded One.

Dave stopped. "Wait. We can't just leave all these people stuck here," he said.

One shook his head. "We can't waste time."

"They could help with the distraction," Dave pointed out. "Add to the confusion."

All of a sudden, the ranting voice over the speakers cut off mid sentence; the silence rang in his ears. The mechanical restraints retracted, metal clanking as the stormtroopers were released. Number Three was standing behind a control panel, her helmet discarded, and she gave her siblings a mischievous grin. Then, as the freed soldiers peeked out from under their blindfolds, she called out, "We're with The Resistance! This is your chance to escape."

Bemused, the stormtroopers looked between each other, as if looking for guidance.

Three sighed. _"Run!"_

In unison, they stood from their binds and trampled out. 

With a victorious smirk, Three said, "Next stop, Hargreeves' office."

It was easy to blend in with the confused panic in the halls, which had been renewed by the escape from reconditioning. As the group hurried along, Dave received a muttered explanation of who Hargreeves was. From there, it wasn't difficult to match the name to the man Klaus had spoken of, when he had confessed about his _personal training._

Dave didn't want to think about how Klaus might be alone with that man right now.

When they reached his office, they found the door left minutely adjar. 

The stormtroopers stopped dead.

"What are we waiting for?" Dave hissed.

One said, "We can't just- just go in."

"Why not?"

"It's against the rules," Luther said defensively.

The group shifted uneasily. Even Two was not willing to break the rule, despite his reputation, although his hands were clenched so tightly that his gloves creaked. 

"Oh, for the love of-" Dave said, breaking away from the squad and striding into the office, his blaster ready in his hand.

The office was empty. 

Dave huffed. Was he too late, again? 

Except-

The toe of a shoe was just about visible from behind the desk. Dave stiffened. Was someone hiding? Had they heard Dave coming?

The squad slowly filtered in behind him, movements shy, like they were waiting to be scolded. Dave subtly nodded to the shoe, and held a finger up to his lips, a universal request for quiet. He took the safety off his blaster, and sharply rounded the corner.

"Shit," he blurted in surprise.

"Is it-?" One asked haltingly. He squeezed in behind Dave, and then, upon catching sight of the dead body, sucked in a shocked breath. "Oh."

"Is it Four?" Two questioned roughly.

One shook his head. "Hargreeves. He was shot. Do you think Four-?"

"No way," said Three.

Dave pursed his lips, taking in the scene. "Hargreeves was holding a gun. If he was desperate? Maybe?" He was sure most people, newly stripped of their identity, could strike out in fear like this, and yet Dave struggled to imagine Klaus turning violent. But was he even Klaus anymore?

"Fuck," said One, still staring at the crumpled body of his C.O.

Three took a shaky step back, so that Hargreeves was no longer in sight. "Where to? Where would he go?" 

Dave opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted.

"Hey, assholes," came a voice from the doorway. "Nobody move."

Instinctively, they all froze in place, and it took Dave a moment to register that the voice was familiar, and another to recognise where from.

Someone made a choked, cut off sound. An aborted gasp.

"I'm looking for Hargreeves," Five said.

"You can put the gun down, kid," said Dave, keeping his motion slow and steady as he turned to face him. He was relieved to see that Five didn't look injured, despite his apparent proclivity for explosives, although his hair was ruffled and possibly singed at the edges. "It's me."

Recognition flitted across Five's face, and the blaster in his hand shifted away from Dave, settling to aim at One instead. "Where's Klaus?" he asked, voice sharp with anxiety.

"Haven't found him yet," Dave admitted, regretful. "We think he was wiped before we got here."

Five cursed.

"Five?" Seven questioned, voice faint. "Is that you?"

The teen turned his weapon on Seven, eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

Seven reached up.

"I said, don't move!" 

Dave murmured, "It's okay, Five. You can put the blaster down."

Five didn't move, expression mistrustful. 

Undeterred, Seven continued, carefully pulling her helmet off. "Five," she croaked. "It's really you."

All at once, the tension seemed to drain from Five, expression slack, eyes wide. "Seven?" he uttered.

"Yeah," she said.

Bolstered, the rest of his siblings followed suit, revealing their pale, shocked faces. 

"Dave said you were here," said Two, "but I didn't really think…"

"You still look the same," One blurted.

At the reminder of his stolen youth, Five stiffened, eyes shuttering. "We don't have time for this. Where could Klaus be?"

"It looks like he came here and killed Hargreeves, after he was wiped," explained Dave. 

"Maybe following Ben," Five mused, brow pinched. "Or remembering something?"

"So the question is," said Dave, "where would he go next?"


	23. XXII

Four was.

Four was breathing. It was fast, too fast, probably, but he was breathing. He was alive. He didn't understand _how_ he was alive, when he should have been shot in the face, but he was still breathing. Still breathing.

The cold press of the wall bit into his spine, his shoulder blades. It was the only thing keeping him present, preventing him from floating away, getting lost in the long, blank spaces in his mind.

He felt lost. No. He felt _loss._ Like something had been taken from him, stolen. There was an aching emptiness inside of him. His brain screamed out a long, continuous noise of _wrong, wrong, wrong._ Even his own name - Four - sounded off. Familiar, but not right. That's how a lot of things felt, actually. Familiar, but ill fitting.

He watched blood continue to ooze from his thigh. Most of his smaller wounds had stopped, scabbing over, but the cut on his thigh was too deep for that. He knew he should probably do something about that, but he didn't know what.

Sixes was talking. Had been talking for a while. Somehow, Four couldn't easily make it out. His ears felt full, like a pressure sitting inside, and his hands were clamped over them, short fingernails digging into his scalp. It didn't help. Maybe the sound was inside of him. 

With bleary eyes, he squinted at Sixes, trying to read his lips, which might have been a more consistent method than listening for snatches of his voice, even considering how dark it was down here. There was still a sliver of light from where the door was left ajar; Four hadn't been able to close it.

"-need to go. We can't stay here. Someone will find us if we stay here."

Four shook his head. The motion hurt, so he stopped, clutching at his temples, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't leave," he moaned. "Have to- have to stay here."

"-door's open. You can-" 

The hum-shout-scream got louder, and Sixes' voice was drowned out again.

He forced himself to look at Sixes. "It's too loud," he said. He thought he could see movement behind Sixes, but he didn't dare look. He told himself nothing was there. "I want to go home."

_Home._ Where was home?

"-take you home," said Sixes. 

"Home?" echoed Four. He forcefully refocused, until he could read his lips again, and then slowly peeled his hands away from his ears.

Sixes smiled, although it didn't look happy. "Promise," he said. "We’re going to get you home, Klaus."

Four blinked. "Klaus?" 

The word seemed to hurt, like poking a bruise, his brain throbbing angrily in response. He wondered, hands pressing tighter against his head, why did the name feel so painfully familiar, and at the same time, so entirely out of reach? He wished he hadn't heard it, because now part of the shrieking inside his brain was repeating it like a mantra, reverbing inside of his skull, _KlausKlausKlausKlaus…_

"I don't understand," he told Sixes, voice catching on a sob. "I don't understand, I- Please-"

Sixes' expression faltered. He reached out, only to withdraw back into himself, crossing his arms tightly. "I'm sorry," he said, although Four wasn't sure exactly what he was apologising for.

"I don’t-" began Four, only to be distracted by more noise. Initially he attributed it to the sourceless noise that filled the room, filled his ears, filled his head, but then Sixes glanced towards it, so maybe it was real after all.

"... -don't see why… be here," a voice filtered through the cracked door. “...-used for decommissioning.”

"... -trust me, he…"

Four curled tighter into the corner. He was barely visible in the low light, wouldn't be easily caught, but the cacophony of footsteps was coming closer, closer, and his heart raced to meet the rapid tempo.

Sixes edged closer. "It's okay," he said, we know them, you're safe, it's okay-"

And then they were upon him.

They were dressed in the same white armour as the men who had attempted to take him away to _reconditioning,_ and Four tasted bitter fear as he wondered whether Sixes had been telling the truth.

One of them made a noise, loud in the narrow, echoing space, and Four flinched back.

"Please," he said. _Please, stop. Please, leave me alone. Please, don't hurt me. Please, tell me who I am, because I can't remember, and I'm fucking terrified, and-_

"Hey," said one of them, voice low and gentle. With steady hands, he pulled his helmet off, revealing kind eyes. Something about him was soothing, and that scared Four even more, because he shouldn't feel so _safe_ around a total stranger. "We're not going to hurt you, okay?"

A frantic voice in Four's head pointed out, _that's exactly what someone who wanted to hurt me would say._

"My name's Dave," the man continued, edging forward ahead of the group. "Do you remember- Do you remember anything?"

Four was struck by indecision. The scared, defensive part of him insisted that he should bluff, rather than show weakness. The rest of him was desperate to find answers. After a long, dragging moment, he said, "I'm KL-0040. _Four._ I'm- I'm Four, right?"

Something twisted the stranger - Dave's - mouth, marring his smile. "Okay, Four. Is B- Is there anyone else with you?" he asked, and up until that moment, Four hadn't thought to question Sixes' existence, the way no one else looked at him, listened to him. Until then, he had been so grateful to have someone on his side, someone to tell him what to do, where to go, that he had accepted him wholly without thought. Now, though. Now he wondered. 

A mournful sound poured from his mouth like blood from a wound. “Oh, fuck,” he said, “you’re not real.”

Sixes’ eyes widened, alarmed, and he said, “No, I’m real, I’m right here-”

And Dave said, “It’s okay, he’s real, it’s okay-”

And Four felt his heart crash against his ribs, felt himself go liquid and formless, and said, “This isn’t real, this isn’t real, I’m not real, oh, fuck, I’m not a _person,_ I’m not-”

And then Dave’s hands found his shoulders, and the touch was like a static shock, like a reset button, and Four jerked away, electrified. Dave immediately backed off - and why did Four regret the distance? - and said, “Sorry, okay, just breathe for me, yeah? Just take a breath-”

And the voice inside Four’s head, so similar to Dave’s, echoed, ‘ _Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop. Just breathe, okay? Take a breath for me.’_

And Four just-

Just _couldn’t,_ couldn’t take anymore-

_“Go away!”_ he burst out, voice cracking under the force of his shout. “Get away, stop, I don’t want- Just leave me alone, _please-_ ”

The group startled, shuffling back at his outburst. The extra space allowed him to breathe properly. He took in a deep breath, and tried to steady himself; he felt like if he didn't, he might break irreparably. Four looked down at the floor under his feet. Now that the door was wide open, more light came in, enough for him to see the rust coloured stains that made up the floor. Blood, his mind supplied. Layers and layers of it, old and cracked. 

"Let me through," said a new voice.

Dave argued, "He needs space. Give him a minute."

"We don't _have_ a minute," the voice retorted, sounding young, and something about the intonation tickled something in Four's brain. "Let me _through."_

The group rippled, errant noises of surprise and indignation, before a kid broke through their ranks. Unable to stop his forward momentum, he tumbled onto the floor with a hissed, "Shit!"

A word broke free of Four, without really knowing why: “Five?”

The kid looked at him, expression hard to read, for a long moment. Then, he said, “Do you remember me?”

Four said, “Yes. I mean, no. No.”

“You knew my name.”

Four shook his head. He was trembling harder, now, so fast that he felt like he might vibrate out of his skin, his brain fizzing, and his vision blurred and bled. He put his hands over his mouth, only to almost choke on the smell of copper, and he wrenched them away again. “I don’t know you,” he said.

“You know me, you know my name. I’m Five. Remember?”

“I don’t- I don’t know you, I don’t-”

“You’ve known me your whole life,” Five said.

“No- _No!_ I can’t-”

Dave stepped closer. “Five, maybe-”

“Shut up, Dave,” Five snapped, not taking his eyes off Four. “You know me.”

Something was rearing up in Four’s mind, something too big to comprehend, like a tidal wave, cresting high above him and eclipsing the sun. He was going to be washed away. Five’s face seemed to fragment, shiver, and he could see the same face layered on top, but younger, rounder, eyes wide with youthful innocence, but he didn’t know him, he couldn’t know him-

“Four. _Klaus._ Listen to me,” Five insisted, fists clenched tightly. “You need to remember.”

“No,” denied Four, because he couldn’t, _he couldn’t-_

“You know me,” said Five, and with one hand, reached out to touch his shoulder.

_“Stop!”_ cried Four, hitting out blindly, and Five staggered back like he had been shot-

Five staggered back-

Five went to his knees-

He reached underneath his jacket, brow furrowed, and his hand was wet and red, red, red-

Eyes rolled back-

_“Five!”_ shrieked Klaus, diving to catch his younger brother, who was limp and pale, unconscious, or dead, bleeding out, oh fuck, oh fuck-

“Hey, hey,” said one of the armoured troopers, swooping down, and Klaus reared back, protective, but then they pulled their helmet off and it was _Three_ , her warm brown eyes familiar and frightened as she looked at Klaus, like she was looking at a wild animal, waiting to see if he would lash out.

Klaus looked at his sister and said, voice hollow, “I killed him. I killed Five.”


	24. XXIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter! big thanks to everyone who commented along the way, and i hope you enjoy this finale.
> 
> warnings for: discussions of suicide

Klaus was spiralling. 

Dave had seen him in various stages of panic before, but he had never seen him quite so gone as this. Hell, he had never seen _anyone_ as gone as this. He seemed lost in his own terror, wide, wet eyes darting around without focus, blood stained hands clutching Five tight enough to bruise. He looked half feral, half dead. An animal caught in a trap.

"Just let me take a look at him," Three was saying, attempting to get close enough to check on the kid, but afraid that Klaus might lash out and make things worse.

"I killed him," Klaus repeated, voice high and reedy.

Dave ducked down, close as he could get without crowding them. "Hey, hey," he said, waiting until Klaus flicked his eyes towards him. "Look. Just look at him. He's breathing."

"What?" Klaus said numbly.

"He's breathing. I can see it from here," Dave insisted.

Klaus blinked. After a long moment, his eyes skated downward, finally noticing Five, the way his chest moved with each breath. "But- But I killed him."

Three shook her head. "I think he just passed out. Can I take a look at him?"

Stiffly, he nodded, although his hands didn't relax their death grip.

She shuffled cautiously closer, until she could peel back Five's jacket to see the damage. "Shrapnel wound," she reported. "Doesn't look too bad, but he's going to need medical attention."

"We need to get back to his ship and get out of here," said Dave. Honestly, anywhere was better than here, the place that Klaus had been locked up in so many times that, even without remembering why, he had returned. The room stunk of blood and charred flesh, with the body disposal chute built right into the wall. The First Order was nothing if not efficient.

One questioned, "How? We're going to look suspicious, carrying a kid and Four with us."

Dave bit his lip. "I have an idea. Do you guys carry handcuffs?"

Seven produced a couple of zip ties from a compartment in her armour. "What's the plan here?"

"We do this Han Solo style," Dave said. "Anyone asks, we apprehended these suspects."

"That might just be dumb enough to work," says Two.

Taking one of the zip ties, Dave crouched down in front of Klaus. "Hey," he said, "we have a plan to get you guys out of here, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Klaus looked at him. There still wasn't total recognition there, but the hostile unfamiliarity was gone, leaving a fragile kind of hope in its wake. "I can try," he said.

"Okay," said Dave. He held up the zip tie. "I need to put this around your wrists, okay?"

Obediently, Klaus held out his hands, still tacky with blood. Careful not to pinch him, Dave secured to zip ties, leaving them comfortably loose, but tight enough to be convincing. Klaus watched him do this with huge eyes. After a beat, he looked up at his face, and quietly asked, "Have we done this before?"

Dave tried not to choke. "Uh- kind of," he said. "You remember that?"

Eyes distant, Klaus said, "I think so. It- It didn't hurt."

"I would never hurt you," Dave blurted, more intense than he would like.

"This is sweet," Two interrupted drolly, "but we're kind of on a tight schedule."

Chastised, Dave helped Klaus onto his feet. "Your leg… Can you walk?"

Klaus looked down at the gash in his thigh, as if he had forgotten it's existence. "Sure."

Taking a deep breath, Dave replaced his helmet, and said, "Let's do this."

The chaos of earlier had died down some, but the halls were still busy with scattered 'troopers, and they pulled some curious looks, but no one stopped them to ask what they were doing with two injured civilians.

The charade worked. Almost.

They were all the way to the hangar before someone had the courage to ask, "Hey, where are you taking them?"

Three replied, "We were just, uh, taking them-"

Two pulled the trigger.

" _Holy shit,"_ gasped Seven, leaping back.

"I set it to stun!" Two defended hotly, dragging his sister behind him. 

The shooting hadn't gone unnoticed, with several stormtroopers watching, blasters raised but not firing, as if not sure who to fire at, but as the group took off running towards the ship, someone finally took the initiative to start firing. Klaus yelped, ducking his head, and Dave had to tug him along when he got distracted by the blaster fire that hit the floor by their feet. He laid down some cover fire, shooting backward without aiming.

"That one," Dave panted with a vague gesture at Five's ship. "The freighter."

"Are you serious?" One responded, but they clambered into the ship anyway. They were all smart enough to know that any First Order ships were tagged, that this was the only way they might escape without being tracked down.

Dave threw himself into the pilot’s seat, and One took the seat next to him, helping him fire up the engine and throw up the deflector shields, even though they both knew that a direct hit would tear through the shields like tissue paper. One complained, “This ship doesn’t even have any artillery!”

“Well it’s the only ship we have. Get us ready for hyperspeed, we need to get out of here _now,”_ commanded Dave, lifting out of the hangar and out of the atmosphere.

Only to almost collide with the TIE-fighter ships waiting for them.

An ambush.

“Fuck,” swore Two, squinting at the rigid formation they held. 

“What do we do?” asked Seven.

Dave shook his head. Strangely, he wasn’t panicking. He just felt numb instead. (Five had called this a suicide mission, after all.) “I don’t know,” he said. “I think- I think this is it.”

“You’re giving up?” One accused him sharply. “We can’t just-”

“What do you want me to do?” Dave said tiredly. “There’s nowhere left to go.”

Klaus, who had been hovering behind them like a ghost, said, “We could go forward.”

“What? We would get blasted out of the sky,” said Two.

“Not if we go straight into hyperspeed,” Klaus mused. 

Allison, who was tending to Five with the emergency med kit, snapped, “That’s crazy. The chance of us _not_ hitting one of the TIE-fighters is-”

“I know,” Klaus interrupted. He stepped up into the cabin, looking dead out into space. “Low odds are still better than no chance, though. And if we’re going to go out, may as well do it in style.”

Dave’s stomach swooped at that. Klaus sounded like Klaus.

“He has a point,” Seven said quietly.

He stood from the pilot’s seat, turning to face the siblings. “I won’t do anything unless we all agree,” he said.

“You can’t be serious,” said One. “We’ll die. _We’ll all die.”_

Three looked down at the blood on her white gloves. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want them to make me forget.” She took her helmet off, and looked at One, eyes hard. “I’m not going back.”

One sucked in a breath. “Three-”

“I’m not going back,” she repeated.

Pulling his helmet off, One looked at his sister, and took a gulping breath. Then, he said, “Okay. Okay.”

Dave nodded gravely. “And Ben?”

Klaus blinked at him, close enough that Dave could see each individual fleck of green. “He’s in.”

“Okay, then,” murmured Dave. His heart thrummed fast in his chest. “One?”

“Got it,” he croaked, holding one shaking finger over the switch that would throw them into light-speed, either into the void of space, or into oblivion.

Dave looked at Klaus, who stared right back. It was a nice view, he thought, for the end of it all. Klaus raised one hand, with flaking blood in the lines of his palm, and pressed his thumb to the curve of Dave’s bottom lip. A wrinkle formed between his brows, as if deep in thought. Then, his expression smoothed out, and a smile played at his mouth. “I kissed you,” he said, “right here.”

“Yeah,” Dave breathed. “Yeah, you did.”

Over the open comms channel, the crackling voice of a First Order commander demanded, “Land your ship, or we will shoot.”

One asked, “Ready?”

The siblings chimed in their shaky agreement. 

Into the pad of Klaus’ thumb, Dave said, “Ready.”

Over the comms channel, a new voice. 

“Good afternoon, boys,” it said cheerfully. “Now, I think you might want to reconsider.”

A gasp tore out of Dave.

Klaus said, “ _Leia.”_

Behind the attack formation was the Rebellion starfleet, guns at the ready, outnumbering the TIE-fighter’s three to one.

“Oh, thank fuck,” said Three faintly.

Her voice came over the comms again: “We’re going to give you one chance to surrender, or we'll blast you all to hell. Your call.”

It only took seven seconds for the TIE-fighters to stand down.

“Good choice,” Leia said archly. “Now, if Dave and Klaus are listening, get your asses home right now. We are going to have a _talk.”_

Dave cleared his throat before turning the mic on. “Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed, voice meek.

Then, turning to Klaus, he asked, “Ready to go home?”

Klaus grinned, and took his hand. “Let’s go home, Davey.”

**1 hour later**

“This isn’t food,” One said, bemused.

“Just try it,” insisted Klaus, practically inhaling his own meal. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. (Couldn’t remember. Ha.) 

His siblings (minus Ben, who was dead, and Five, who was still in surgery) sniffed at the food, expressions ranging from disinterest to suspicion to confusion. Eventually, Seven took a cautious bite, and blinked. “It’s warm,” she said.

Klaus swallowed. Did he sound like that, when he first escaped the Order? “Good, though, right?”

It was a fairly bland meal, at Dave’s insistence. Apparently the strong flavours overwhelmed Klaus, when he had first tried it, although Klaus couldn’t quite remember it. The doctor - What was her name? Kalonia? - had said that the small gaps in his memory might come back, with time. He wasn’t too worried about it. After all, he remembered the important stuff - safety and soft beds and hot showers and _Dave, Dave, Dave -_ and Ben could fill him in on anything else.

“This is actually pretty good,” Three said in surprise. 

“Told you so,” said Klaus. “You guys are going to love it here.”

**1 week later**

“I hate it here.”

Klaus snorted. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“No, I mean it,” said Two, shivering and sweating in equal measure. “Hate it. Should have gone back to the Order.”

“Shut up,” said Klaus, kicking him with bare feet. Two kicked back harder, almost dislodging him from the bed.

Dave, who was balancing a tray of food, said, “Klaus, be nice. He’s in withdrawal.”

Pouting, Klaus said, “I’m always nice.”

“That’s a lie,” said Two and Dave.

“You guys suck,” said Klaus. 

“You love us,” said Dave, only to flush when he realised what he had implied.

Klaus grinned widely. “Doesn’t mean you don’t suck.”

“Will you guys stop flirting,” groaned Two, flopping back on the bed.

“We’re not flirting.” Dave frowned, and then reminded him, “Couples are allowed here, remember? We wouldn’t get in trouble for it.”

Two looked him dead in the eye, and said, “I know. It’s just gross.”

A mischievous look on his face, Klaus turned and planted a dramatic kiss on Dave’s cheek, who, naturally, went bright red. 

**1 month later**

“What do you think? Does it suit me?”

Klaus thought about it, rolling the word on his tongue. “ _Vanya._ Yeah. It’s perfect,” he said.

Seven - _Vanya -_ gave him a pleased look. “Thanks.”

“So when are you gonna choose a name, kiddo?” Klaus asked, even though Five hated the nickname. Maybe even _because_ Five hated the nickname.

Five glowered at him. “I have a name. My name is Five.”

The siblings considered that for a moment.

“I think it suits you,” Dave said. 

Five’s glare softened slightly. “You’re alright, Katz,” he declared.

“Careful, or I’ll start thinking you like him better,” said Klaus.

“I _do_ like him better.”

Klaus sighed. “Fair enough. I kind of like him, too.”

**1 year later**

Klaus smudged out his eyeliner in the mirror, the sound of Dave getting dressed serving as a familiar soundtrack. He blinked at himself, and smiled at the result, pleased that he had finally learned to perfect it. 

Wrapping his arms around Klaus from behind, Dave appeared in the mirror, also smiling, a fond smile reserved just for Klaus. “Ready, birthday boy?”

“Maybe,” said Klaus.

Dave raised his eyebrows. “Are you nervous?”

Fidgeting, Klaus said, “No. Maybe. I just… I’ve never had a birthday party before.”

“I know,” hummed Dave. “But all your siblings will be there, and Poe, and Jess. It’s just some food and music and your favourite people.”

Klaus let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Okay.” He spun and gave his boyfriend a quick kiss. 

“Ready?” Dave asked again, smiling bright.

He ducked in for one more kiss, and confirmed, “I’m ready.”


End file.
